What was once a grand family home was now no more than ash.
She knelt on the scorched land that she had grown up on, as did her father, and his father before him. The doors that she had walked through, the rooms she had laughed and cried in, the walls that had borne the portraits and photographs of decades upon decades of history. All gone, just like that.
A hand rested on her shoulder. She looked up to see her father by her side. He sent her a small smile, pained yet hopeful.
“This isn’t the end,” he said.
He was right. Their family home had a long history. This wasn’t the first time it was destroyed. Just like those before them had done before, they would rebuild, and rise from the ashes even stronger than before.