The Pale Altar
The blade was dull, which was a problem, because the stone was harder than I had anticipated, and the new moon was three hours away, and Colonel Halloway’s order was absolute. I held my left hand flat against the altar’s surface, the granite cold and gritty under my palm, feeling the faint vibration that had started at midnight, a low-frequency hum that traveled up my arm and settled in my...
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