Blood Upon the Altar

Dark curls streaked with silver. Alabaster skin creased with age and scar. And eyes… Eyes that were just the same. Louisa's breath caught in her throat. Her knees shook. "Hello, Louisa," the woman said, her voice gentle. Worn. "I've come to tell you the truth." The room spun. Marguerite Moreau. Aliv...

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