Chapter One
Evelyn Marrow sat at her small kitchen table, a mug of steaming coffee cradled between her hands. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, slicing the air into golden stripes. Dust motes floated lazily, and the apartment smelled of old books, worn paper, and a faint tang of the city seeping in through the open window. She liked quiet mornings like this until a soft thud from the mail slot pulled her out of her reverie.
She set the mug down and bent to retrieve the envelopes. Bills, ads… and then one stood out: a cream-colored envelope sealed with wax. No return address. Her pulse skipped. The handwriting was elegant, looping, old-fashioned.
"Who even uses wax anymore?" she muttered, fingering the seal.
Inside was a single sheet of thick paper:
"You are requested to restore Windmere Manor. Your expertise is required. The house awaits your arrival. Come alone."
No signature. No clue who had sent it. Just… a summons.
Windmere Manor. The name stirred something deep and distant—stories from her mother, whispers of tragedies long ago, a legacy she barely understood. Evelyn frowned. She had restored old homes before—libraries, Victorian houses—but never at the bidding of a stranger.
Her phone buzzed. A message from her friend Lara: "Coffee tomorrow? Haven't seen you in forever!" Evelyn typed quickly, "Busy. Emergency project. Can't explain yet. Will call soon." She paused, thumb hovering over send, and deleted it. Some things weren't meant to be shared yet.
Dropping her coffee cup in the sink, she muttered, "Well… guess it's time for an adventure."
By midday, she was packed. Light bag: notebooks, pencils, camera, small toolkit. Sturdy boots, jeans, jacket. Nothing fancy—this was about discovery, not comfort.
At the train station, the city buzzed. People rushed past, shouting and laughing. A newspaper boy called, "Extra! Extra! Mysteries in the city!" Evelyn smirked at the irony.
"Excuse me," a man brushed past her, bumping lightly. "You headed to Windmere too?"
She blinked. "Windmere? Never heard of it."
He shrugged, muttered something under his breath, and disappeared into the crowd. Evelyn frowned at the coincidence, tugged her jacket tighter, and made her way to the platform.
The train pulled in with a screech. The carriage smelled faintly of iron and old wood. Evelyn found a window seat, pulling her bag onto her lap. Outside, the city blurred into suburbs, then rolling fields.
"Traveling far?" a fellow passenger asked, a young man with a sketchpad balanced on his knees.
"Sort of," she said. "Work-related."
"Ah… restoration work, maybe?" he guessed, glancing at the tools peeking from her bag.
"Yes. Something like that." She smiled faintly. He nodded, and they lapsed into quiet observation, the rhythm of the rails filling the carriage.
Hours later, the scenery changed. Green fields gave way to thick forests, cliffs rising sharply against the sky. The train slowed near the station closest to Windmere Manor. Twilight wrapped the world in deep purples and blues. A taxi waited outside.
The driver, a tall man with a weathered face, eyed her over the wheel. "Miss Marrow?"
"Yes," she said, sliding in.
He nodded silently, shifting the gear. The road wound up the cliffs, trees pressing in on both sides. Wind tugged at her jacket. The farther they drove, the more the world outside seemed to shrink, leaving only the road and the looming cliffs ahead.
"Beautiful, in a dangerous sort of way," she murmured, more to herself than him.
The driver grunted, eyes on the road. "Windmere's like that. Beautiful… and unwelcoming."
Suddenly, a figure appeared on the roadside—a woman in a long coat, umbrella bending in the wind. Evelyn blinked. The driver didn't slow. She raised a hand, but the woman vanished behind the trees. Evelyn shivered. Was that… someone trying to warn me?
Then, the manor emerged.
It was massive. Stone walls streaked with age, ivy crawling everywhere. Windows cracked and dark, some catching the last light of the sun. Evelyn's stomach tightened. Beautiful… terrifying.
The taxi stopped. Evelyn climbed out, shivering as a gust of wind tugged at her jacket. The doors were enormous, carved with patterns worn smooth by decades of weather and hands long gone. She hesitated, hand on the cold metal handle.
"Deep breath," she muttered. And pushed.
Inside, the manor smelled of dust, wood, and something older—like memory itself. Footsteps echoed on marble floors. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, illuminating faded murals and broken chandeliers.
"Hello?" she called.
No answer. Only the wind sighed through broken panes.
Her eyes caught movement—or maybe a shadow. She blinked. "I'm imagining things," she whispered aloud.
Evelyn explored further, passing a crumbling sofa. Something shiny glinted under the dust. Kneeling, she found an old locket, tarnished and cold. Opening it, she saw a faded photograph of a child.
"Who were you?" she whispered.
From the hall came a faint sound—like footsteps. She froze. "Hello? Anyone there?"
A voice replied, faint but clear, "Leave… now."
Evelyn's heart raced. She shook her head. "No. Not yet. I need to know your story."
She wandered to what seemed like a study. Dusty shelves towered above her, filled with books whose spines were cracked and faded. She flipped open her notebook.
The house is alive. It watches. It waits.
A draft rattled the windows, pulling at her jacket. Somewhere deep in the house, behind walls and floorboards, a whisper seemed to call her name.
Welcome home, Evelyn.
The chandeliers swayed slightly, and a sudden creak sounded above, as if someone—or something—was moving. She froze. Then, from somewhere behind the walls, a faint giggle echoed. Evelyn held her breath.
"This isn't funny," she muttered. But she couldn't stop herself from leaning closer to the window, peering out at the cliffs and the waves far below. The wind carried a salty, mossy smell and something else she couldn't name—like the house was alive, waiting.
Evelyn shivered. Not from the cold. Not from the wind. From the feeling that someone or something was watching her. And somehow… she didn't want to leave.