The Faded Bouquet
The air in the cellar tasted of copper and wet earth, a metallic tang that coated the back of Elias Thorne’s throat as he knelt before the stone altar, his hands trembling not from cold, but from the sheer, crushing weight of the expectation placed upon him by his elder sister, Clara. She had sent him down here, into the labyrinthine roots of the house where the dampness seeped into the marrow,...
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