Riley_macphee
In an age of iron and candlelight, when the wind carried both the scent of harvest and the ash of distant wars, there lived a family upon the edge of a modest village. Their cottage, though humble, stood firm against the turning seasons, as if it too possessed a quiet will to endure.
There was the father, Micah, a man of worn hands and solemn eyes. Anne, the mother, whose voice was softer than dawn's first light. And their two sons: the john, known simply as Elder Brother, and the younger brother, called Michael.