Elara's POV
I stared at the photo on my phone until my eyes burned.
Cassian. In my bedroom window. At Thornwood Manor.
But Cassian was dead. I'd been to his funeral. I'd cried over his grave.
Unless I hadn't. Unless everything I'd been told for ten years was a lie.
Thomas Greyson knocked on my door at exactly 8 AM. I hadn't slept after that text. I'd spent the rest of the night packing my few belongings and staring at that impossible photo.
"Ready?" Thomas asked when I opened the door.
I shoved my phone in his face. "Explain this. Now."
He looked at the photo. His expression didn't change, but something flickered in his eyes. Recognition.
"Where did you get this?"
"Someone sent it to me at three in the morning. That's Cassian. In the manor. But he's supposed to be dead." My voice cracked. "Tell me the truth. Is he alive?"
Thomas was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "Get in the car, Miss Thornwood. You'll have your answers soon enough."
"That's not good enough!"
"It has to be." His voice was firm. "Some things can't be explained. They have to be seen."
I wanted to scream. I wanted to refuse to go anywhere until he told me everything. But the eviction notice was still on my counter, and I had nowhere else to go.
I grabbed my bag and followed him downstairs.
The car was fancy and black, the kind rich people rode in. I felt wrong sitting in it with my cheap jacket and worn-out jeans. Thomas drove in silence, his hands steady on the wheel.
London disappeared behind us. Buildings became trees. Cars became fields. The world opened up in a way I'd forgotten existed.
I pressed my forehead against the window and watched England roll past. Every mile north felt like traveling backward in time.
"Your mother used to make this drive every month," Thomas said suddenly. "Even after she moved you to London. She'd go back to check on things."
"Check on what?"
"The manor. The grounds. Her responsibilities." He glanced at me. "Your family has always taken their duties very seriously."
"What duties? We were just a family. Normal people."
Thomas almost smiled. "Your family was many things, Miss Thornwood. Normal wasn't one of them."
I wanted to ask more, but memories were crashing over me like waves. The further north we went, the stronger they got.
My mother in the kitchen, singing while she cooked. Her hands were always warm when she hugged me. She smelled like lavender and old books.
"You're special, my darling," she used to whisper when she tucked me in. "Never forget that. You're stronger than you know."
I'd thought she meant it the way all mothers did—that their kids were special just for being theirs. Now I wondered if she'd meant something else.
More memories flooded in. The manor's library with its ceiling-high shelves and rolling ladders. I'd spent hours there, reading everything I could reach. My mother would find me asleep on the floor, surrounded by books, and carry me to bed.
And Cassian.
Always Cassian.
We'd met when I was five and he was five, two kids running wild through the manor's endless rooms. His parents had died, and my mother had taken him in. He became my brother, my best friend, my partner in every adventure.
He was the one who'd taught me to climb trees. Who'd stayed up with me during thunderstorms when I was scared. Who'd made me laugh when other kids at school were mean.
And then, when I was sixteen, everything changed.
It was summer. We were in the gardens after dark, lying on the grass and looking at stars. Cassian had just turned sixteen too. He was different that year—taller, quieter, watching me with those gray eyes in a way that made my stomach flip.
"Ellie," he'd said softly. "Can I tell you something?"
"Always."
"I think I'm in love with you."
My heart had stopped. Then started again, beating so fast I thought I'd explode.
"I think I'm in love with you too," I'd whispered.
He'd kissed me under the stars. My first kiss. Perfect and terrifying and wonderful.
We'd had one year together. One perfect year of stolen kisses and holding hands when no one was looking and dreaming about our future.
Then the fire came and took everything.
"He saved my life," I said out loud, not meaning to.
Thomas glanced at me. "Cassian?"
"The night of the fire. He got me out. He went back for my parents." My throat tightened. "They said he died trying to save them."
"Is that what they told you?"
"You're saying it's not true?"
Thomas's hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. "I'm saying that death isn't always the end. Not at Thornwood Manor."
Before I could ask what that meant, the landscape changed.
The moors appeared.
Wild and empty and endless. The sky turned gray. Mist rolled across the hills like ghosts. There were no houses here. No people. Just wind and grass and ancient stone walls.
I felt it then—a pull in my chest, like something was calling me home.
"We're close," Thomas said quietly.
My heart pounded. In minutes, I'd see the manor. I'd get answers. I'd find out if that photo was real, if Cassian was somehow alive, if everything I'd believed for ten years was wrong.
The mist got thicker. Thomas slowed the car. The road wound through the hills, narrow and twisting.
Then I saw it.
Through the fog, like something from a dream.
Thornwood Manor.
My breath caught. It was exactly like the photos, exactly like my memories. Massive stone towers reaching toward the sky. Windows like dark eyes. Walls covered in ivy.
"It's real," I whispered.
"It's always been real," Thomas said.
He stopped the car at the iron gates. They were closed, locked with chains that looked ancient.
"Don't you have a key?" I asked.
"I don't need one." Thomas nodded toward the gates. "You do."
"I don't have—"
The chains fell away on their own. Just dropped to the ground like someone had cut them. The gates swung open slowly, creaking.
"The manor knows you've come home," Thomas said. "It's been waiting."
A chill ran down my spine. Houses didn't wait. Houses didn't know things.
But as we drove through the gates, I felt it—the manor watching me. Recognizing me.
Welcoming me.
We pulled up to the front entrance. The massive wooden doors stood closed.
"What now?" I asked.
"Now you go inside."
"Alone?"
"This is your inheritance, Miss Thornwood. Your choice. Your responsibility." Thomas finally looked at me fully. "Whatever you find in there, remember—some things that seem dead are just sleeping. And some promises are stronger than death."
My hand was on the door handle when my phone buzzed one more time.
Another text from the unknown number:
He's at the door. On the other side. Waiting. Are you brave enough to face what you left behind?
I looked up at the manor's entrance.
As I watched, the massive wooden doors began to open.
Slowly.
On their own.
Darkness poured out from inside. And in that darkness, I saw a shadow move.
A figure.
Walking toward me.
Someone was coming.