The Letters She Left Behind
The mirror didn't speak again.
But Alana didn't move for a full minute. She just stared at her reflection, heart pounding in her ears, trying to convince herself she hadn't heard a thing.
When she finally walked upstairs, every step echoed through the house like it was hollow. Empty. Listening.
The second floor smelled of dust and dried roses. A row of closed doors stretched before her. But one door—her grandmother's room—stood slightly ajar. As if it had never been fully closed since she left this world.
Inside, everything was untouched. The bed was made. The curtains were drawn. And there, sitting on the desk like a final gift, were the remaining letters—one for each day of the week.
Monday. Tuesday. Wednesday. Each sealed in wax, marked with her initials: E.R.
Alana reached for the first one.
Her hand trembled as she broke the seal and unfolded the letter.
"My dearest Alana, if you're reading this… then something I feared has already happened."
She sat slowly on the edge of the bed.
"This house is not what it seems. You are not who you think you are. And there are those in Thornhollow who will smile at you and lie to your face."
The letter continued. Warning her. Guiding her.
Alana's breath caught when she reached the final line:
"Do not trust the boy in the woods. He carries our blood. But not our loyalty."
She looked up.
A floorboard creaked somewhere below.