The Faded Guest

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2026-08-17 19:12:55 -

The Faded Guest

The rain had stopped, but the mud remained. It clung to Thomas’s boots like a guilty conscience, heavy and cold. He walked the narrow lane toward the abbey. The air smelled of wet stone and decay. He was a man of few words and fewer friends. A sinner, the village called him. A prisoner, his soul knew. He carried a small leather satchel. Inside was a letter. It was not a confession. It was a...

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