The Pale Altar

added blog Literature

2026-08-24 07:42:33 -

The Pale Altar

Elias Thorne wiped the blood from his wife’s chin with a rag that had once been white, the crimson stark against the damp wool of the harvest feast. The village hall smelled of roasting goose and stale ale, a thick, cloying heat that pressed against his lungs, but Mara sat in the corner by the cold hearth, her face the color of old parchment. She coughed again, a wet, rattling sound that seemed...

0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews