The destruction of the grand hall of Blackwood Manor was a horrific spectacle of collapsing history. For two hundred years, this room had hosted diplomatic envoys, classical recitals, and private family dinners under the benevolent gaze of Victorian oil portraits. Now, the carved walnut wainscoting burned in jagged sheets of orange flame, the heavy tapestries depicting medieval hunting scenes smoldered into black cinders, and the air was so thick with…
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