Adrian's povThe road to Wraithmoor Lodge ended the way most warnings did beautifully, and too late to matter.I watched it unspool through the windshield of the hired Range Rover, a thin gray ribbon cut into white nothing, flanked on both sides by pines so heavy with snow they looked like they were bowing to something. The driver, a taciturn local named Bruno, hadn't spoken in eleven kilometers. I didn't mind. I'd learned a long time ago that silence told you more about a place than a guidebook ever could, and the silence out there had a particular quality to it, not empty, exactly. Attentive."How much longer?" I asked anyway, because some habits didn't care what I'd learned.My name is Adrian Wolfe and I am 34 years old. I'm tall, broad-shouldered, dark hair kept short and practical; I have a weathered, angular face that looks used to weather and bad news in equal measure; carries old, faint scars consistent with fieldwork, I don't discuss. I Dresses plainly dark, functional clo
Last Updated : 2026-08-15 Read more