Mara stepped off the bus, her boots crunching on gravel as the salt-kissed wind tugged at her sleeves. The town of Hollow’s End had not changed in ten years—same crooked docks, same rusted fishing boats bobbing in the harbor, same…
The salt air bit through Clara’s jacket as she stepped off the creaking dock, her boots crunching over gravel. The harbor lay still, its surface a sheet of oil, reflecting the bruised sky. She hadn’t been back in six years—not…
The salt air bit into Lila’s cheeks as she traced the rusted hinges of the abandoned lighthouse, its silhouette jagged against the storm-churned sky. She’d found the key last week—dangling from a frayed leather cord beneath a loose floorboard in…