The Faded Guest

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2026-08-25 14:01:34 -

The Faded Guest

The fog in Oakhaven does not roll in; it settles, like a debt that has finally come due to be collected. "Thorne," Silas called out from the porch of the old rectory, his voice thin and reedy, cutting through the damp silence. "You’re late. The ledger is getting heavy." I wiped my hands on my trousers, the ink still black under my fingernails from the morning’s paperwork. I was forty-two, a...

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