The brave child

Previously

…Her grandmother, once frail and fading like a candle in a draft, now sat by the hearth, her laughter a warm, robust sound that filled their small cottage with a joy Clara had almost forgotten. The artifact, nestled safely within a velvet pouch, rested beneath a loose floorboard, its subtle thrumming a constant, almost imperceptible reminder of the power it held, and the price it had exacted. Yet, peace remained a distant shore. Even as the village bust