The Pale Altar
The chandelier above the High Court’s banquet table hangs low, its crystal pendants dripping light like frozen tears onto the silver platters, and you stand at the edge of the gilded room, your hand resting on the pommel of your sword, feeling the weight of the forty-two years that have compressed into this single, suffocating moment. You are Silas Vane, Captain of the Imperial Guard, and you...
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