The Pale Altar

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2026-08-24 12:53:04 -

The Pale Altar

You count the hours. Three remain until dawn. The cell is damp, the stone sweating a cold mist that clings to your skin, and the air smells of stale urine and iron. You are Silas, warden of the Ostrava prison, and your heart stutters in your chest, a bird trapped in a cage of ribs. You want to strike the blow. You want to prove your loyalty to the Crown, to silence the irregular beat that has...

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