There was no shop. The room was utterly empty. Not a shelf, or a sheet of parchment, or a single oddity or trinket or charm remained. Nothing but four...plain walls and open, uncluttered space. Every last sign of the Sorcerer had been erased as if he’d never been. * The better part of three weeks had passed since the attack on the manor, and life at House IronWing was at last returning to some semblance of normal. The serving folk had finally started to feel comfortable again and stopped looking. After a very uneventful dinner, the girl heads upstairs to shower. Life on a farm is not all it’s cracked up to be. Or at least it hasn’t been for Emily Elizabeth. Her parents do not hold conversations at the dinner table. The rule is that it is time for eating not talking. The only solace from her thoughts is the repetitious bite, chew, swallow that comes with eating. It’s not much of a distraction, but it’s a distraction. The shower isn’t much different, that is until she cuts off the water. More

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