Opening: Brandon reading at Vroman’s (from The Gathering Storm Prologue):
Renald Fanwar sat on his porch, warming the sturdy black oak chair crafted for him by his grandson two years before. He stared northward.
At the black and silver clouds.
He’d never seen their like before. They blanketed the entire horizon to the north, high in the sky. They weren’t gray. They were black and silver. Dark, rumbling thunderheads, as dark as a root cellar at midnight.
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