The halls of Bly were never silent.
Even when no one spoke, there were sounds.
Scratching.
Footsteps where no feet walked.
The low hum of something breathing... under the walls.
Kate packed a bag.
She didn't care if Mrs. Grose noticed, or if Flora pouted, or if Miles glared. She was going to take Ivy out of this house tonight.
Ivy wasn't sleeping anymore. She wasn't eating. Her skin had grown pale, almost translucent. She kept wandering into the west wing, murmuring things to herself.
She laughed too loudly at nothing.
She stood in front of mirrors, staring.
Once, Kate found her just standing in Miles's room, lights off, at 2 A.M., whispering:
"He says I'm perfect now."
Dinner was quiet.
Flora played with her food, humming a strange little tune.
Miles watched Ivy eat — eyes dark, unmoving.
Kate sat across the table, holding back the urge to scream.
Mrs. Grose brought out apple pie. "Special treat tonight," she said. "To celebrate."
"Celebrate what?" Kate asked.
Flora grinned. "Miles is staying forever now."
Miles glanced at Kate. "Isn't that wonderful?"
Kate clenched her fork. "Ivy, can I talk to you upstairs?"
Ivy barely looked up. "No."
Miles smirked.
"I said—" Kate stood.
"I said no," Ivy whispered. Her voice was flat. Cold. Like someone else had spoken through her.
That night, Kate crept into Ivy's room. Her sister lay motionless, eyes open, staring at the ceiling.
"Ivy," she whispered. "Pack your things. We're leaving now. I don't care if it's raining. We're going."
Ivy didn't move. Didn't blink.
Kate touched her shoulder.
Suddenly, Ivy sat up — eyes wide.
"Why are you always trying to ruin this for me?" Her voice cracked. "He loves me. He chose me."
"Ivy, listen to yourself—"
"He sees me!" Ivy shouted. "And I see him. In my dreams. In my mirror. In the walls!"
Kate backed up.
Ivy stood, barefoot, hair tangled. Her hands trembled, but her face was locked in a smile.
"I think I'm someone else now," she said softly.
Kate stepped forward, hugging her tightly. "You're not. You're my sister. We can fix this, we just have to leave—"
The lights flickered.
Kate looked over Ivy's shoulder.
There was someone standing in the mirror.
A man. Tall. Shadowed.
His eyes were white. Empty.
Peter Quint.
Kate screamed. The mirror shattered.
They ran.
She grabbed Ivy's hand and pulled her down the hallway. Ivy was crying, yelling, laughing all at once.
"We're leaving!" Kate shouted.
But the front door wouldn't open.
The locks turned themselves.
Flora stood at the top of the stairs.
"You shouldn't try to take her away," she said quietly.
Behind her, Miles stepped into view.
He smiled.
"She doesn't want to leave."
"She's sick!" Kate cried. "This place is killing her!"
"No," Miles said. "It's fixing her."
Kate turned.
Ivy was gone.
Up the stairs. Toward that room. The one that used to belong to Peter Quint.
Kate followed.
Inside, the fire burned in the grate — but no one had lit it.
The walls felt like they were breathing.
Ivy stood by the window, staring out into the mist. The black horse was outside. Waiting.
She turned slowly.
"I belong to him now."
Kate shook her head. "You belong to yourself."
"I did." A tear slid down Ivy's cheek. "But he took me. And I liked it."
Kate stepped forward.
But the floor groaned behind her.
She turned — and someone pushed her.
Hard.
Kate's scream was swallowed by the walls.
Ivy blinked. Her hands were shaking.
She didn't look down the stairs.
She just walked into Miles's arms.
He held her. Whispered in her ear.
"You're mine."
She nodded.
"I've always been yours."