The Pale Altar
Act I "You’re late again, Rajesh." Kael stood in the doorway of the immigration office, arms crossed, his breath pluming in the cold draft that seeped under the door. The thaw had turned the roads outside into a slurry of black mud and rotting leaves, making the walk from the canal colonies a daily negotiation with gravity. Rajesh wiped his hands on his apron, the leather of his father’s...
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