The Pale Altar
I, Nazire Kaya, am writing this from the cell where the heat cycles are broken, but my mind is still on the border, in the year 842 of the Imperial Calendar, when I held the Pale Altar. I was thirty then, a border warden with a pension that amounted to nothing but a promise, and I wanted only to deliver the stone to High Lord Vane to secure my future. The Altar was a shard of white stone, cold...
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