The manor had gone quiet again. Too quiet.
After Julian's chilling words — "It's starting." — Cassandra hadn't been able to shake the feeling that they were no longer alone in the house. Not just physically, but in a much deeper, stranger way. Like something old had awakened. Like the house itself was holding its breath.
She sat curled on the tufted velvet chair by the fire, her fingers wrapped around a cup of untouched tea. It had long since gone cold, but she didn't dare move. Julian stood by the window, watching the snow spiral in the wind, silent.
"Julian," she finally said, her voice trembling, "what exactly is starting?"
He turned slowly. His expression was unreadable.
"The reckoning."
The flames cracked behind her. "The reckoning of what?"
"My family. Your family. This entire estate." His jaw tightened. "There's something that ties it all together. Something our parents tried to bury."
Cassandra's breath hitched. "You think my mother—?"
"I don't think," Julian said grimly. "I know."
Before she could speak again, the doorbell rang. Not a knock. A bell. A sound too delicate, too out of place in a house like this. They both flinched. Julian didn't move.
"Julian?" she whispered.
He blinked, snapping out of whatever trance he was in. "Stay here."
"No," she said, rising. "I'm coming with you."
They walked down the hallway together, their footsteps muffled by thick antique rugs. The house felt heavier with each step, like the very air was watching.
When Julian opened the front door, the blizzard howled, and snow flurried inside — wild and white. There was no one there.
But on the threshold, half-buried in snow, was a single envelope. Cream parchment. Red wax seal. Her name.
CASSANDRA.
Julian reached for it, but Cassandra stopped him.
"I'll do it."
Her fingers were freezing as she broke the seal and opened it.
Inside, only one sentence:
> "Everything she told you was a lie. Ask her about the sapphire ring."
Cassandra's knees nearly gave out. She clutched the frame of the door.
Julian's hand came to her back. "What is it?"
"I've seen that ring before. My mother never took it off." Her lips parted. "Until the day she left me at boarding school."
The storm shrieked outside.
Julian took the letter and studied it. "This isn't a warning. It's an invitation."
"To what?" she whispered.
"To dig deeper."
They shut the door, but the cold had already entered the house.
Later that night, Cassandra sat alone in her room. She'd brought out an old photograph album from her luggage. It had been packed by accident. Or maybe fate had decided otherwise.
Flipping through the pages, she paused at one photo — her mother, younger, standing in front of the same manor house. Her arm around a man Cassandra had never met. And there on her hand… the sapphire ring.
The inscription on the back:
"Ravenshade, 1993."
Her breath caught. That was this estate's former name.
Her mother had been here… long before Cassandra ever knew it existed.
And she never told her. The floor creaked outside her room.
"Julian?" she called.
No answer. She stood, walked to the hallway. But it was empty.
Until—She heard something. A low hum. Like a voice—singing. She turned sharply. The study door was ajar.
Cassandra slowly approached, pushed it open and froze. On the desk was another envelope.
Unsealed. Inside was a photo. Julian. Her mother. Together.
Standing in front of a burning building. And scrawled in ink across the bottom: "He knows everything."