The wind had changed.
Ivy could feel it even before she opened her eyes.
It carried something sharp this morning—like burnt leaves and secrets. Bly felt quieter. Emptier. The kind of empty that comes after something leaves. Or dies.
Mrs. Grose was gone.
Flora noticed first.
"I can't find her," she said at breakfast, her voice trembling, eyes darting nervously to the windows. "She's not in her room. Her coat is still on the hook but... she's not here."
Kate furrowed her brow. "Maybe she left early for something?"
"She wouldn't. Not without telling us."
Flora looked like she wanted to cry, but didn't.
"She was scared," she whispered.
Kate looked up. "Scared of what?"
Flora didn't answer.
She just glanced at Ivy.
And said nothing.
The afternoon was gray.
Thick clouds pressed low over the hills, and mist crept between the trees. Ivy stood by the window, watching the driveway, when she heard hooves.
She turned—and saw him.
Miles.
On a black horse.
His posture tall. One hand holding the reins, the other resting lazily on his thigh. His hair was windswept, his smile was something out of a dream. Or a nightmare.
He looked up.
Right at her.
And tilted his head, beckoning.
"Ivy," Kate said, stepping into the room behind her. "Where did that horse come from?"
"I don't know," Ivy murmured.
"You're not going out there, are you?"
"I'll be back soon."
"Ivy—"
But Ivy was already gone.
Outside, the wind pulled at her sweater. The air smelled of pine and old ash.
"You like him?" Miles asked, patting the horse's side. "He was always here. Like me."
Ivy looked up at the animal. Its eyes were too dark. Too knowing.
She hesitated.
He offered his hand. "Come with me."
And something in her—the thing that was still Ivy—screamed not to take it.
But her fingers curled into his.
He pulled her up behind him, and the world tipped into something... unreal.
They rode in silence.
The trees blurred past. Miles didn't say a word at first.
Until he did.
"Do you feel it?" he asked quietly.
"Feel what?"
"The house... changing you."
Ivy shivered. "What do you mean?"
"You're not who you were when you got here."
He turned his head slightly, the edge of his profile shadowed.
"You're closer to me now."
"I don't understand."
He looked back. His voice was softer than wind.
"You will."
The ride ended at a clearing. The ruins of an old shed stood crumbling in the distance.
"I used to come here with him," Miles whispered.
"Who?"
He didn't answer.
Instead, he helped her off the horse. His hand lingered at her waist.
Ivy pulled back. "We should go back."
"Not yet."
"Miles—"
He stepped closer.
"I just want to show you something."
His fingers slid gently down her arm.
"You trust me, don't you?"
Her heart thudded.
"I..."
Behind them, the wind screamed.
But in his eyes, there was calm.
Or maybe it was madness.
Back at the house, Flora stood at the window, watching the woods.
"Kate," she whispered.
"Yes?"
"Ivy's changing."
Kate paused. "What do you mean?"
"She's... not her anymore."
Kate looked over sharply.
But before she could ask, the door to the house creaked open.
Miles and Ivy stepped inside.
Their clothes dusted with ash.
Their hands still intertwined.