The Distant Summer
The fire did not start with a spark but with a sound, a low, guttural groan that seemed to rise from the very foundations of the stone, a vibration that you felt in your teeth before your ears registered it as noise, and you stood in the center of the great hall of your ancestral home, the Blackwood Manor, holding a lantern that had long since gone out, its glass shattered on the flagstones at...
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