The Wistful Saga

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2026-08-19 16:03:01 -

The Wistful Saga

The hall smelled of damp wool and roasted pork. It was a thick, cloying scent, the kind that settles into the pores and stays long after the guests have gone. Sheriff Elias Thorne stood by the buffet table, his hands clasped behind his back, watching the town of Oakhaven celebrate its centennial. The air was hot. Faces were flushed. Laughter rang out, sharp and brittle, like ice cracking on a...

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