The Pale Altar

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2026-08-23 11:37:45 -

The Pale Altar

1347, Oakhaven. The ink in my hand is thick, the smell of it sharp and metallic, cutting through the damp air of the scriptorium. I am Thomas Bradshaw, constable of this village for twenty years, and I am writing my resignation. The paper is cheap, rough to the touch, but the words I form are deliberate, each stroke a nail driven into the coffin of my loyalty to the Abbot. I do this not from...

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