The Wistful Witness
The fire had been burning for three days, a low, hungry orange glow that pulsed beneath the floorboards of the grand hall, turning the ancient oak into a skeleton of charred ribs that groaned and shifted with the heat, and it was in this hell of smoke and rising ash that Arthur Penhaligon, the youngest squire of the house, found himself not as a hero, but as a witness to his own slow erasure,...
0 Reacties 0 aandelen 2 Views 0 voorbeeld