Devouring flames dance in his cold eyes.
He mournfully watches the fathers, sons and brothers he fought alongside become blackened husks.
Death, his constant companion, savours another crimson dawn.
Grimbauld curses the rage of men, yet knows all too well, from this path of vengeance, there was never any return.
So, I guess this could be a prequel, or a sequel, to last weeks far more comforting story. Such is the nature of war. It destroys the very families that Grimbauld holds so dear, and yet he is trapped in its endless cycle.
Hope you enjoyed it.
Thanks for reading. Until next time.
Another great Grimbauld piece!
"Death... savours another crimson dawn." Love this line.
Another fine piece.