On my third day, something new unsettled me.
I had been working in the garden all morning, pulling weeds from the overgrown beds. At noon, I went inside to fetch a tool I had forgotten.
In the kitchen sink, I froze.
There were three plates. Three bowls. Three glasses of water. Neatly washed. Stacked to dry. But there were only two of us in the house.
The back of my neck prickled. My chest felt tight. I left quickly, the rag clenched too hard in my fist, and returned to the garden.
The garden itself was more like a graveyard than a place of life. A stone archway at the entrance was strangled by dead vines. Moss clung to the wings of angel statues. In the center stood a fountain, cracked and dry.
It was a place of memory, not of living things.
I knelt to cut back the dead rose bushes, their thorns brittle under my gloves. But before I could begin, a sharp sound split the air.
Glass breaking.
I shot upright, my heart hammering, eyes darting to the mansion. The sound had come from above.
The attic.
My gaze rose slowly to the highest window. One curtain billowed outward, pale and thin. And behind it, for the briefest instant, I swore I saw movement.
"Cosette."
The voice snapped like a whip. I spun around. Aunt Neela stood in the kitchen doorway, her face hard as stone.
"I—I thought I'd clear the rose bushes—"
"Do not touch them," she cut me off. Her voice was sharp enough to slice the air.
"Why?"
"They belong to the family," she said firmly. "You will not touch them."
Her eyes locked on mine. No space for argument.
"I'm sorry," I whispered. "It won't happen again."
"Clean inside," she ordered. She turned without waiting.
I followed, my legs unsteady. But before stepping through the door, I glanced up once more.
The attic window was closed now. The curtain gone.
As if it had never been open at all.
⸻
By my fifth day in Elwood, Aunt Neela finally sent me into town.
She handed me the keys to her black car and a short shopping list. "The store you need is at the far end of downtown," she told me.
The drive was strangely beautiful. The road curved through fields and woods. The air smelled clean and sharp, unlike the smog-filled city I came from.
People watched from their windows as I passed. Their eyes followed the car, their faces unreadable. Some even gave small nods, almost like a bow. Each time, my stomach tightened.
Downtown was busier. People walked along the sidewalks, but their movements were controlled, quiet. There was no laughter, no idle chatter, no rushing. It was like everyone moved with the same rhythm, each step measured. But no one looked at me this time.
I drove to the end of the street, expecting to find the store. Instead, the road ended at a park—or what had once been a park.
The swings hung broken, their chains rusted. Streetlamps leaned crooked, their bulbs shattered. Leaves covered the cracked ground, whispering under the wind. The air felt colder here, the silence deeper.
I parked and stepped out.
A few shops still stood nearby, though most were dark. One sign caught my eye: Books & Antiquities.
I pushed the door open. The bell above chimed weakly. Inside, the air was thick with dust. Sunlight filtered through grimy windows, falling across shelves stuffed with old books. For a moment, I thought the shop empty.
Then a woman appeared from the back, carrying a stack of books. She blinked at me, then gave a faint smile, as though she had been expecting someone after all.
"Yes?" she asked.
"I'm new here," I said quickly. "Do you know where I can find Eldoria? It's supposed to be at the far end of town."
Her eyes sharpened. "You're not from Elwood."
I hesitated. "No. I just moved here."
Something flickered in her expression. A glint—part recognition, part warning.
"It's across the next street," she said at last. "Near the third lamp from the park."
"Thank you," I said. I turned to leave, but her voice stopped me.
"Where in Elwood do you stay?"
I glanced back. "At the mansion on the hill. My aunt is the caretaker."
The books in her arms nearly slipped. Her eyes widened. "The Crimson mansion?"
"Yes," I said carefully.
Her lips curved, but it wasn't really a smile. "Then give my regards to the Alpha."
The word hit me like a stone in water, ripples spreading through my chest.
Alpha.
I opened my mouth to ask what she meant, but a voice called from the back, pulling her away. She disappeared into the shadows, leaving me alone among the dust and silence.
I stepped outside again, the word still ringing in my mind.
Alpha.