The Pale Altar
The pen scratched against the resignation form, a dry, rasping sound that cut through the silence of the sheriff’s office. Elias Thorne held the nib steady, his hand trembling only slightly, as he filled in the date. He was forty-five years old, and he had served Oakhaven for twenty-two. The fog outside the window was thick, pressing against the glass like a living thing, but inside, the air...
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