The dust motes danced in the single shaft of light piercing the ruined temple. It smelled of wet stone and something else…something like burnt honey and regret. Old Man Tiber, they called him, though he wasn’t *that* old—more weathered, like…
The wind tasted of grit and regret. Lysara cursed, picking bits of shale from her braid. Below, the valley sprawled, stitched with silver rivers. Not the view she’d anticipated. Not at all. She’d pictured a graceful landing, a triumphant return.…
Discovery In the bustling town of Willow Creek, nestled between rolling hills and shimmering lakes, twelve-year-old Lily Monroe lived in an old house with her grandmother. One sunny afternoon, while rummaging through Grandma’s attic amidst dusty trunks and cobwebbed corners,…