The burning glow of fire basked him in a warm light. I feared to look at him, to study him again after the train, but found him darkly beautiful. There were statues in the graveyard near Hampshire House. Perfect lines chiseled and molded into stone, but many had tiny cracks and imperfections. Petre had worn his defect as a scar, but what else had he hidden beneath the surface?

-Rae Z. Ryans

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