The Pale Altar

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2026-08-23 20:02:23 -

The Pale Altar

"Put it down, Elias. Now." The voice belonged to Father Aldous, but the threat was not his. It was the air in the basement, thick and dry, smelling of old dust and the metallic tang of ozone. Elias Thorne, forty-two years old and six months from his pension, did not put it down. His fingers were white, the tips blue, gripping the edge of the stone slab with a strength that had nothing to do...

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