{Even after two hundred years, I searched in vain.}
….
Rays of weak sunlight streamed into the room through the thick glass window. The fires fluttered, providing heat to the room that still felt cold despite the large fires that burned.
Sharen sat at the table in the small room he'd converted into his study, seriously reading one of the books he'd taken from the Record's building and taking notes of anything that sounded or seemed important to him.
He would've finished this one a long time ago had he not been distracted every time the islanders knocked on his door, demanding that he should come take their gifts. It wasn't a demand but they begged for him to accept it personally and bless them—a thing Sharen doubted he could do.
