Tales Of Corwin

She drew a breath, and everyone was silent, suddenly aware of the significance of what they were about to do. “Barefoot, if you please,” she said. They all took off shoes and socks. Sandra and Mark led the way to the basement stairs, and the Rose Feather Circle followed, quiet as mice. Down into the darkness they padded. They didn’t turn on the basement lights; Sandra had placed candles at intervals along the passage. The massive stone, the high ceilings, the still air, the gentle candlelight, the whisper of echoes—it didn’t seem gloomy, but it seemed, somehow, otherworldly. And ancient. Mark wondered just how old it was. The house dated to the late eighteen hundreds, he knew. But what had been on the site, before the house was built? When they reached the door to the chamber, Mark was surprised to see it standing open. He and Sandra stopped there, with the Circle behind them. “Did you leave the door open?” he asked softly. Sandra shook her head. “It’s a welcome, then,” Mark suggested. She nodded. Then