The Golden Mirror
The dust fell in grey silt from the rafters, a fine, dry powder that coated the leather straps of Elara Vane’s tool bag as she tightened the final buckle. It was October, 1943, and the air in Oakhaven tasted of woodsmoke and impending collapse. Elara, thirty years old and her hands mapped with the white scars of a master glazier, stood in the center of her workshop, the silence of the room...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews