The villa woke Jennifer long before dawn.
A door slammed somewhere above her a heavy, deliberate sound that punched through the relentless roar of the monsoon.
She sat straight up, heart racing. Every window had been tightly latched before she went to bed. There was no way wind or storm could have done this.
Outside, the rain hammered down, a thousand drumming fingers beating on the clay tiles like an urgent, impatient message. Lightning tore the sky apart, flooding the old hallways with sudden, ghostly light.
Jennifer's breath caught as she stuffed her feet into sneakers, tugged on her sweater, and grabbed her flashlight. The grand staircase creaked under her weight as she rushed up two steps at a time, every sound amplified in the dead silence.
At the top, the corridor smelled of damp stone and salt familiar, grounding scents that should have been comforting, but tonight felt different, charged. She swept the flashlight beam over the polished tiles and stopped cold.
Footprints.
Bare feet. Male. Freshly made.
The trail glistened slick and wet, a shimmering path across the floor, leading straight toward the music room.
Her throat tightened. A whisper of fear crept in.
"Hello?" Her voice wavered, fragile and uncertain, swallowed instantly by the growl of thunder.
Only the storm answered.
Those footprints gleamed like a challenge, daring her to follow. Her footsteps echoed softly as she stepped after them, the vast ceiling above swallowing the sound, as if the villa itself held its breath in anticipation.
At the music room, the heavy teak door stood cracked open. A cold gust swept through the gap, biting her cheeks. The scent that drifted out stopped her a deep, earthy sandalwood, rich and unmistakably masculine.
Jennifer hesitated, then nudged the door with her foot. The hinges protested with a groan. Her flashlight flickered across dust-cloaked piano keys, faded murals climbing the walls, and a lattice of cracks spidering the worn floor.
And there it was.
An envelope resting on the piano lid, the same deep crimson wax she'd seen before glistening wetly in the half-light. Across the front, her name was written in bold, looping script: Jennifer.
Her heart skipped. She hadn't left the first letter here.
Lightning flashed again, and for the briefest moment, the envelope seemed to glow from within, as if alive. The wax seal pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat she could feel in her bones.
Her fingers moved before she could stop them, breaking the seal with a soft snap.
Unfolding the paper, she saw a single line written in shimmering silver ink:
The tide is rising. Do not fight it. Follow the sound of the bells.
The words rippled like water before settling into a steady glow.
Her phone buzzed sharply in her pocket, a sudden hope. She pulled it out, only to be met with static, no signal.
And then a sound.
A bell.
Soft at first, distant and haunting, like an echo carried across the endless sea. Then again, clearer, closer.
Goosebumps prickled along her arms.
There were no churches on the cliffs below, no reason for bells to toll at this hour.
The bell rang again. Deep, resonant, impossible to ignore.
Jennifer gripped the flashlight tighter, heart pounding with a mix of fear and something else curiosity, maybe even hope. She rushed down the grand staircase, through the cavernous foyer, and shoved open the heavy front doors that resisted until they burst wide.
Rain shredded at her face, cold and sharp. The wind whipped wild, throwing her hair across her eyes. The garden path gleamed slick under the flashes of lightning, each step treacherous and unsteady.
The bell tolled again, louder now, cutting through the roar of the storm and the crashing sea.
She ran toward the sound, heart hammering as she neared the cliff's edge where the earth dropped steeply into the Arabian Sea. Waves smashed against dark rocks, sending sprays of saltwater stinging her skin.
There, framed by furious flashes of stormlight, a man stood.
Still. Silent. Barefoot on the wet stone.
The rain soaked through his hair and clothes, turning him into a figure carved from shadow and rain. He turned slowly, eyes meeting hers in a moment that felt endless. Dark, intense, raw as if he carried the storm's weight in his gaze.
Lightning cracked the sky above.
A wave roared against the rocks, rising high enough to blur her vision. When it passed and she blinked the salt out of her eyes, he was gone.
Only the sea's endless churn remained.
And the fading echo of a bell that should not be ringing.