Chapter One: The Mansion on Blackthorn Hill
The rain had stopped by the time Elara Hayes reached the top of the winding drive.
Mist hung over the trees like silk, and the mansion that waited beyond the iron gates looked carved from shadow itself — tall, stone, and silent.
She hugged her coat tighter. "So this is home now," she murmured.
Her mother, Margaret, smiled from the car window. "You'll love it once you get used to it. The Vales are good people."
Elara wasn't so sure. The house felt… alive. Watching.
When they entered, candlelight flickered through the vast hall, glinting off portraits that seemed to follow her. Then, from the staircase, a voice — low, deep, and calm said
"You must be Elara."
She turned.
He stood at the landing above — tall, dressed in black, eyes like dark glass reflecting the firelight. His tone was polite, but something in it felt too careful, too restrained.
Margaret's voice broke the stillness. "Elara, this is Lucien. Your stepbrother."
Lucien descended the stairs, each step deliberate. The air seemed to cool as he neared.
He extended his hand. "Welcome to Blackthorn Hall."
His fingers were cold when they touched hers. She tried to smile, but her heart stuttered unexpectedly. For a moment, she thought she saw something unnatural flicker behind his calm gaze — a flash of crimson, gone as quickly as it appeared.
"Thank you," she said softly, pulling her hand away.
Lucien inclined his head, eyes never leaving hers. "You'll find your room upstairs. Second door on the left."
And then he was gone, disappearing down a shadowed corridor as silently as mist.
That night, Elara lay awake in her new room, the rain starting again against the windows. She could still feel the chill from his touch.
Down the hall, she heard faint footsteps — too soft to belong to her mother.
Then… a whisper.
"Elara."
She sat up, breath caught in her throat. But when she opened the door, the hallway was empty — only a gust of cold air drifting past her.
She told herself it was just the house settling. Just nerves.
But outside, in the garden below, someone watched her window.
Lucien's eyes glowed faintly red as he whispered to himself,
"I told Father I could control it. I was wrong."