The mansion was too quiet. The kind of silence that made your skin itch. Eleanor wandered down the east wing corridor, fingers brushing along the cold marble walls. She hadn't meant to explore, she was just trying to get away from Adrian after yet another tense breakfast, but the stillness drew her deeper.
That's when she noticed it.
A door. Dark wood, heavier than the others, its handle a gleaming brass serpent. She tried it out of idle curiosity. It didn't budge. Locked.
Frowning, she glanced over her shoulder. No one was around. No guards, no maids.
She knelt and peered through the thin gap beneath the door. Darkness. But not complete darkness—there was the faintest sliver of light moving inside, as if someone or something was shifting in the shadows.
Her breath caught.
The light blinked out.
Footsteps approached from the other side. Slow. Deliberate.
Eleanor straightened and stepped back just as the handle rattled once, twice… and then stilled.
She held her breath, every instinct screaming at her to run. But she couldn't move.
And then, soft as a whisper came a voice from inside.
"Eleanor…"
The air around her turned ice-cold.