Night fell like a curtain — thick, smothering, absolute.
Bly Manor, though grand, seemed to shrink at night. The rooms whispered. The mirrors breathed. The shadows leaned in closer than they should.
Ivy stood by the window, staring into the darkness. She could still see the outline of the stables, dim under the moonlight. Her hand clutched the ring again, as if it were some kind of anchor — or maybe a chain.
A knock came at her door.
She turned. The door creaked open.
Miles.
"Can't sleep?" he asked, voice low, almost gentle.
Ivy didn't answer. Her throat tightened at the sight of him — tousled hair, that half-smirk that never reached his eyes, and something else. A cold charm. A knowing look that made her nervous and excited at once.
He stepped inside, not asking permission.
"I thought... maybe you'd want to see something," he said. "Come on. Just us."
She hesitated, her heart pounding.
But she followed.
They slipped outside, barefoot in the grass. The night air was sharp against her skin, but she barely noticed.
Miles led her to the stables. Nero stood there, unnaturally still, eyes glinting in the dark like obsidian.
He opened the stall, letting the door swing wide.
"I've never seen him act this way with anyone but me," Miles said. "And now... with you."
Ivy stepped forward slowly. The horse let out a long breath through its nose — not a threat. An invitation.
Miles stood behind her, so close she could feel his breath on her neck.
"He trusts you," he whispered. "Like I do."
She turned toward him, eyes wide.
His fingers brushed hers.
"I know you feel it too," he said, voice barely audible. "Don't lie."
He didn't lean in for a kiss — no. It was worse.
He waited, his eyes holding hers, his body tense, like a predator waiting for its prey to move first.
Ivy couldn't breathe.
Something about this wasn't real. Or maybe it was too real. Her thoughts felt slow, dreamy, like fog.
Was this what obsession felt like?
Because if it was, she never wanted it to stop.
Meanwhile: Kate
Kate sat in the manor's library, surrounded by dust and forgotten names.
She'd waited until Ivy was asleep — or so she thought — before sneaking downstairs. Her gut had been twisting all day, and she couldn't shake the name Peter Quint.
She searched through old staff logs, Bly's history, anything she could find.
Then she saw it.
"Peter Quint – Groundskeeper. Terminated: Unexplained Behavior. Possible misconduct with Miss Jessel."
Her blood ran cold.
There were police notes. An incident. No follow-up. Jessel had disappeared shortly after. Peter Quint had died a few weeks later in an accident involving the same black horse.
Kate's hands trembled as she flipped through a brittle notebook once owned by Jessel herself. The last page stopped her cold.
"He's inside him. He watches through his eyes. If I can't stop him, someone must."
And just beneath that:
"The boy is no longer the boy."
Kate stood abruptly, heart racing.
She had to get Ivy out.
Now.
Back outside, Ivy still stood near the black horse. Miles hadn't touched her. Not really.
But his presence had carved something into her — a hunger. A dangerous comfort.
He leaned closer.
"I'm not like them," he said. "And neither are you."
"I don't know what you mean," Ivy whispered, though her voice was hollow. Empty of fight.
Miles leaned in. "Yes, you do."
And with that, he turned and disappeared back into the manor, leaving Ivy breathless beneath the moonlight, unsure whether she was falling in love... or falling into something much darker.