The mansion breathed like something alive.
Nyra stepped into Room 9, the only room her grandmother warned her never to open. Dust floated like whispers in the air, and in the far corner stood a tall mirror— draped in a velvet cloth, as though hiding something it couldn't forget.
She hesitated. Her fingers brushed the cloth. Cold. Damp. Like something has just welt beneath it.
Slowly, she pulled it down.
Her reflection stared back.
But it wasn't alone.
Behind her stood a man—elegant, pale, eyes stormy grey. His gaze met hers in the mirror.
And then....he smiled.
"You came back," he whispered.