The Golden Quest
The fire did not start with a spark or a flame, but with a sound, a deep, tectonic groan that rose from the foundation stones of the manor house, a sound that seemed to carry the weight of the entire century in its throat, and when I opened my eyes in the dark of the nursery, the air was already thick with the acrid, sweet smell of burning oak and melting varnish, and I knew, with the cold...
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