The Pale Altar
The ledger showed fourteen hours of overtime this month. I counted them twice, tapping the pen against the paper until the ink dried into a black scab. Fourteen hours. Enough to push my pension date forward by two weeks, if the frost held off and my knees did not fail me. I am Silas Vane, forty-two years old, and I have served Oakhaven for twenty-two years. I wanted to leave before the winter...
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