The Distant Cartograph

added blog Literature

2026-08-21 11:07:33 -

The fire started in the East Wing. Margaret saw the smoke first. It curled from the eaves like a grey serpent. It was thin. Pale. It smelled of pine and old dust. She stood on the terrace. Her hands were cold. The air was sharp. She did not run. She watched. The flames caught the shutters. They bit into the wood. Orange light flickered against the stone. The great house groaned. A beam snapped....

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