The Faded Guest

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2026-08-20 21:24:55 -

The Faded Guest

The rain did not fall; it hung in the air like a grey curtain, damp and heavy. Thomas Whitmore walked. His boots sank into the mud of the King’s Highway. Each step was a labor. The mud sucked at his heels. He was a soldier. Or he had been. Now he was just a man with a heavy back and a lighter mind. The village of Oakhaven lay ahead. It was a cluster of thatched roofs and stone walls, huddled...

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