The Golden Cellar
The fire had not yet finished eating the roof of Thorne House when Elias arrived, the sky above the manor a bruised purple streaked with the orange veins of the blaze. He did not look up at the destruction, his eyes fixed instead on the muddy track that wound down into the valley where the old oaks stood, his boots sinking into the wet earth with a rhythmic, heavy thud that matched the pounding...
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