The Faded Guest
You wake with the taste of iron in your mouth, a metallic tang that coats the tongue and lingers like a bad omen. It is the hour before dawn in the village of Oakhaven, a place where the stone walls of the cottages hold the memory of centuries, where the air is thick with the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke. You are old. Your joints ache with a dull, persistent fire that no amount of rest can...
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