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The Rose Window: The Legacy of Thornecrest
Gabriela stood at the tall windows of the great hall, the morning sun diffused by the fog that clung like lace across the moors. Her reflection shimmered faintly in the glass—a young woman of grace and quiet strength. The long auburn tresses of her mother framed her face, but the deep eyes, so often pensive and sharp with quiet fire, were the unmistakable mark of her Ashenleigh lineage. From her father, Gabriel, and perhaps even from the portraits of Everard and Darian, she had inherited that gaze.
Life at Thornecrest had settled into a rhythm. With the Pells aging but ever devoted, and their daughter Sophie managing the household, Gabriela found herself increasingly the quiet steward of her family's legacy. The days were simple, measured by garden walks, ledgers and repairs, letters unanswered, and the sound of wind through ancient stones.
It was on one such morning, as the fog pressed low and birdsong held back in caution, that a rider appeared at the edge of the estate.
The hoofbeats echoed up the lane as Gabriela watched from the window. The figure emerged tall, broad-shouldered, with a red-gold mane of wind-tossed hair, cloaked in northern black, his great wolfhound at his side. A nobleman, clearly, and one who rode as though he had long known command. But there was something else—a familiarity she could not place, like the flicker of a dream long forgotten.
Sophie came to the door of the hall, breathless.
"My lady," she said, half-whispering. "A visitor. Lord Cedric Gosstried. He claims he has business... and a blood claim."
Gabriela turned, composed. "Let him in."
Cedric entered like a gust of northern wind. He bowed, but his eyes were keen, observant. Gabriela greeted him with the formality bred into her, polite but cool. Still, she could feel the tremor beneath her composure, the curious pull of his presence.
"You say you have a claim to Thornecrest," she said.
"By blood," he replied, his voice deep and resonant. "Through an old alliance forgotten by time. But I did not come to quarrel. I came to understand."
They stood in silence, the castle itself seeming to lean in.
"And do you? Understand?" she asked.
"Not yet," he said. "But this place... it feels like a memory. Even though I have never been here."
Her breath caught. There it was again. The shimmer. The shadow of something older than either of them...
This is a is a stand-alone story that also interconnects with the continuing saga of the Thornecrest Series.
___
Life at Thornecrest had settled into a rhythm. With the Pells aging but ever devoted, and their daughter Sophie managing the household, Gabriela found herself increasingly the quiet steward of her family's legacy. The days were simple, measured by garden walks, ledgers and repairs, letters unanswered, and the sound of wind through ancient stones.
It was on one such morning, as the fog pressed low and birdsong held back in caution, that a rider appeared at the edge of the estate.
The hoofbeats echoed up the lane as Gabriela watched from the window. The figure emerged tall, broad-shouldered, with a red-gold mane of wind-tossed hair, cloaked in northern black, his great wolfhound at his side. A nobleman, clearly, and one who rode as though he had long known command. But there was something else—a familiarity she could not place, like the flicker of a dream long forgotten.
Sophie came to the door of the hall, breathless.
"My lady," she said, half-whispering. "A visitor. Lord Cedric Gosstried. He claims he has business... and a blood claim."
Gabriela turned, composed. "Let him in."
Cedric entered like a gust of northern wind. He bowed, but his eyes were keen, observant. Gabriela greeted him with the formality bred into her, polite but cool. Still, she could feel the tremor beneath her composure, the curious pull of his presence.
"You say you have a claim to Thornecrest," she said.
"By blood," he replied, his voice deep and resonant. "Through an old alliance forgotten by time. But I did not come to quarrel. I came to understand."
They stood in silence, the castle itself seeming to lean in.
"And do you? Understand?" she asked.
"Not yet," he said. "But this place... it feels like a memory. Even though I have never been here."
Her breath caught. There it was again. The shimmer. The shadow of something older than either of them...
This is a is a stand-alone story that also interconnects with the continuing saga of the Thornecrest Series.
___
53 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 5, 2025
1 person want to read
About the author
Alsen Barrett
9 books2 followersAlsen Barrett is a writer of fiction, non-fiction and poetry who enjoys reading, history, travel and of course dogs, which feature prominently in many of the stories.
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