Imceaglaer Page

But it sighed.

He heard laughter.

Then silence.

And down below, in the drowned schoolhouse, the imceaglaer shifted. imceaglaer

One autumn evening, a storm scraped the coast raw. The tide pulled back farther than anyone had ever seen, and there—gleaming in the mud—were the rooftops of Old Dunbrig. The well. The kirk’s bell, crusted in barnacles. And the children’s schoolhouse, where Mareg had once taught dancing on Fridays. But it sighed