The envelope sat untouched on the table for two days.
Allan avoided it. Cassodie ignored it. Esmeralda dusted around it without comment. Marrie never noticed it was there.
It was black, matte, and perfectly square. No seal. No name. Just presence.
Allan found himself staring at it during breakfast, during study sessions, during the quiet hours when the manor felt too large. It didn't hum like the walls did. It didn't whisper. But it waited.
Cassodie hadn't spoken about the hallucination. She hadn't asked questions. She hadn't acknowledged Melody's visit. Allan wasn't sure if she remembered it at all.
But something in her had changed.
She moved slower. She blinked less. She seemed thinner, though Esmeralda insisted she hadn't lost weight. Her voice, when she used it, was quieter. Not fragile—just distant.
Allan felt the pull again.
That strange, magnetic draw toward her. It wasn't affection. It wasn't comfort. It was gravity. And it terrified him he wanted to do something but he could do nothing at this point everything from a China he remembered to a comma not aware of he had no control over.
The days passed in a rhythm that felt rehearsed. Breakfast at eight. Study at ten. Walks in the garden at four. Dinner at seven Allan thought it was magic Cassodie hissed at the dwindling days the three day timeline ticked her a bit. Esmeralda kept the schedule tight, as if routine could anchor them to reality.
University was approaching. Marrie had secured their enrollment, their dorms, their orientation packets. She spoke about it with excitement, as though it were a fresh start. Allan couldn't bring himself to share her enthusiasm when he did not understand it in the firs place.
He didn't feel fresh. He felt haunted.
Cassodie didn't comment on the university plans. She accepted the paperwork, nodded when spoken to, and returned to her silence.
Esmeralda noticed.
"She's quieter than usual," she said to Allan one afternoon.
"She's always quiet."
"This is different."
Allan didn't argue. He knew Esmeralda was right.
On the third morning, Esmeralda cornered Allan in the east corridor as he silently stared at an envelope he himself was unsure if it was another pandora's box.
"You're pale," she said.
"I'm tired."
"You're always tired."
He leaned against the wall. "Do you ever feel like the house is… watching?"
Esmeralda raised an eyebrow. "No."
"Not even at night?"
"I sleep soundly."
He looked at her. "Do you believe in magic?"
She paused. "No. But I believe in trauma."
Allan nodded. "That's fair."
Esmeralda glanced toward the study. "That envelope. Where did it come from?"
"Someone left it."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
She studied him. "You should open it."
"I'm not ready."
"You won't ever be."
"Good thing readiness is not something I require for this decision something greater than comfort." He said holding her stiff shoulder, nervous tapping it as if assuring her that he would survive.
What really got her eyes gouged was what did a man only third to God and his mother feel to need to survive from.
Cassodie spent most of the day in the greenhouse. She didn't tend to the plants. She just sat among them, unmoving.
Allan watched her from the hallway that attraction always made sure she could never leave his periphery view.
He wanted to ask her what she'd seen. What she'd felt. What had broken inside her.
But he didn't.
Instead, he walked away.
That night, Allan returned to the study.
The envelope was still there.
He sat down. Took a breath. Reached out.
Inside was a single card.
Black. Embossed with silver lettering.
You hum differently. That's not a flaw. It's a door.
No instructions. No signature. Just the message.
He turned it over.
On the back:
Three days. One choice.
He stared at it for a long time. Mentally corrected the time to two days.
Then he heard footsteps.
Cassodie entered the room, her eyes unreadable.
"You opened it," she said.
"Yes."
She sat across from him. "What does it say?"
He handed her the card.
She read it. Said nothing.
"What do you think it means?" he asked.
Cassodie looked at him. "I think it means we're not normal."
"We already knew that."
She nodded. "But now someone else knows too."
"Have you ever though of the life as part of the order it sounds cool." Cassodie asked the choice not something she even considered to be one.
"I don't know but I know it cannot be boring though
The next morning, Marrie was unusually cheerful.
She had received a call from the university. Their enrollment was confirmed in hindsight she bankrolled 70% of it's yearly operations could they refuse any of her whims. Dorms were assigned. Orientation packets were arriving.
She made tea. She hummed the happiness as if she herself went to university instead of any of them Allan understood it as fulfilling your dreams through your child.
Allan watched her with quiet dread.
She didn't know.
She didn't see.
She didn't hear the manor whispering.
Allan began to explore.
Not the rooms he knew—the study, the greenhouse, the dining hall—but the ones he hadn't dared enter. The attic. The cellar. The west wing.
He found doors that didn't open. Windows that looked out onto nothing. Hallways that seemed longer than they should be.
He found a mirror that reflected him blinking when he hadn't.
He found a painting of a woman who looked like Melody, but older, sadder.
He found a book with no title, filled with symbols he couldn't read.
He asked Esmeralda about it.
She said, "It's just old."
He asked Marrie.
She said, "It's decorative."
He asked Cassodie.
She said, "It's watching."
He had nowhere else to ask
That night, Melody returned.
She didn't knock. She didn't speak.
She appeared in the mirror.
Allan was brushing his teeth when her reflection blinked.
He turned. She stood behind him.
"Hello again," she said.
He didn't scream.
"You opened it," she added.
"Yes."
"Good."
Cassodie appeared in the doorway, silent.
Melody smiled. "You two are fun."
"What do you want?" Allan asked.
"To offer you something."
"We don't know what it is."
"You're not supposed to."
Cassodie stepped forward. "Is it dangerous?"
Melody tilted her head. "Everything worth doing is."
She pulled two new cards from her coat. One red. One green.
"Green means go ," she said. "Red means wait."
She placed them on the sink.
"You have until the moon turns orange to decide."
Then she vanished.
The next day, Allan found Cassodie in the garden.
She was sitting on the stone bench, staring at the sky.
He sat beside her.
"Do you remember it?" he asked.
She didn't look at him. "Yes."
"What did you see?"
She was quiet for a long time.
"Too much," she said.
He nodded. "Me too."
Cassodie turned to him. "Did you break?"
"I don't know."
"You're still here."
"So are you."
She looked away. "Not all of me."
"Me too."
Esmeralda found Allan in the library the next day
She handed him a folder. "University orientation."
He took it. "Thanks."
She hesitated. "Be careful."
"With what?"
"Whatever's happening."
He looked at her. "You don't believe in magic."
"I believe in patterns," she said. "And this one's wrong."
That night, Allan stared at the two cards.
Red. Green.
Go. Wait.
Cassodie sat across from him.
"What do you want to do?" he asked.
She didn't answer.
"I don't even know what these cards are all about." He added
He leaned forward. "Do you feel it?"
She nodded.
"The pull?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
Cassodie looked at him. "I think it's the magic you asked about."
Outside, the moon began to rise.
The manor whispered again.
And this time, it sounded like laughter maybe sorrow it was all Allan's interpretation after all.