CHAPTER 17: THE TOWER
Mariana stared at the spot where Thomas had been standing only moments before. There was nothing, no charred bones, no smouldering teeth. The lightning had melted the weather vane to black, dripping slag, and the thatch had caught fire and was hissing in the pelting rain.
Mariana crouched down, desperately searching the burning thatch for any trace of the Thief’s son. The flames died. And then there was nothing. Gone. He was gone.
“Oh no.” The old woman said under her breath “Oh no, no, please no…”