The Faded Guest

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2026-08-22 06:18:10 -

The Faded Guest

The mist did not merely fall upon the estate of Blackwood Hall; it inhabited it. It was a living thing, thick and grey, pressing against the leaded windows of the administrative wing with the insistence of a creditor. Inside, the air smelled of damp wool and stale ink. Arthur Penhaligon sat at his desk. The wood was dark, polished by decades of gloved hands. He was a man of sixty, or perhaps...

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