The storm had not yet broken, but the air trembled with its warning. The manor's windows were black mirrors, reflecting only Elara's candlelight as she moved through the hall. Shadows clung to her footsteps like old regrets. Every board she stepped on seemed to groan a wordless plea: don't go.
Her bag was small just a coat, a lantern, a few letters she'd stolen from the cellar. None of it would protect her, not really. But it gave her the illusion of purpose, and she needed that more than safety.
Behind her, the house breathed. She could feel it. The air shifted when she passed through the doorways, as if the rooms themselves were sighing in disbelief. A soft tapping echoed from above. Ravens. Always ravens. They had gathered along the roof like sentinels, their beaks scraping against the stone as though they were carving her name into it.
Agnes appeared at the end of the corridor, her figure half-swallowed by the dimness. "You shouldn't," she said quietly.
Elara didn't turn. "You said there's another. I won't let it take her."
"You cannot save her." Agnes's voice cracked. "You will only carry it to her. The curse feeds on movement. On defiance."
Elara's hand tightened around the lantern's handle. "Then let it feed."
She walked past her, the candlelight glancing over Agnes's face a flash of anguish, then cold fury. The old woman followed, her steps uneven but determined. "You think this is courage?" she hissed. "This is arrogance. Your mother tried the same, and look where she lies."
That stopped Elara. Her pulse roared in her ears. "Then I'll finish what she couldn't."
Agnes's eyes flickered with something Elara had never seen before fear, yes, but also sorrow. "You are not ready to face what waits beyond that door."
Elara lifted her chin. "Neither were you when you stayed."
She walked on.
The front hall opened like a gaping mouth, the grand doors looming ahead. The candlelight barely touched their surface. Dust floated in the air, disturbed by her breath. She could hear the rain starting soft, hesitant drops against the glass. It would be a storm soon. It always was.
Agnes's hand shot out, grabbing her arm. Her grip was strong, almost desperate. "Listen to me. The moment you step beyond those gates, it will follow. It has always followed the blood."
Elara turned slowly. "Then it'll have to keep up."
The words hung between them, trembling. Agnes's expression shifted from anger to grief. "You think you're rebelling against me. But it's not me you're defying."
Elara looked at her then, really looked. The woman seemed smaller, like the house had drained the life from her. Perhaps it had. Agnes had lived her entire life guarding a secret she could never break. Elara realized with a sudden ache that the woman's warnings weren't cruelty they were surrender. And she would not surrender.
"I have to try," Elara said softly.
Agnes's eyes glistened. "Then may the ravens pity you more than they pitied me."
Lightning flashed. The house seemed to inhale. Every candle guttered at once. The air filled with the sound of feathers. The ravens outside had begun to scream.
Elara pulled free and ran.
The doors opened before she touched them, a violent gust flinging them wide. Rain lashed against her face, the cold stinging her skin awake. She stumbled onto the steps, clutching her lantern to her chest as the light flickered wildly. The sky above was alive with wings. Dozens of hundreds of ravens circled the manor, their cries overlapping in a single, discordant note that sounded like laughter.
The world beyond the gates was swallowed in fog. The gravel path stretched ahead like a vein into nothingness. The trees on either side seemed to bow toward her, their branches forming an arch of black claws.
Behind her, Agnes called out. Her voice was nearly lost beneath the storm. "Elara! If you leave now, you will never find your way back!"
Elara didn't look back. "Good."
She stepped into the rain.
The gates groaned open, the iron slick with moss. She crossed them, her boots sinking into the mud. Every sound felt amplified the hiss of rain, the distant rumble of thunder, her own breathing. She had imagined freedom would feel lighter, but it didn't. The air out here was thick, heavy, as if the curse itself was clinging to her skin.
She walked for hours. The road was narrow and winding, and the fog made the world feel small. Once, she thought she heard footsteps behind her, but when she turned, there was nothing. Only the faint echo of her own heartbeat. Still, she felt watched. The curse wasn't bound to the house it was bound to her blood, just as Agnes had said. Every shadow seemed to breathe. Every crow's call sounded like her name.
Near midnight, she reached the old milestone at the edge of the woods. The stone was split, worn smooth by years of rain. She paused beside it, catching her breath. Her lantern was nearly out; the flame trembled, weak and dying. She crouched to shield it, and that's when she saw it.
A single feather lay at her feet, black and gleaming. She picked it up, turning it over in her palm. Warm. As though it had only just fallen.
When she looked up, a figure stood across the path.
Her heart stopped. The lantern's glow barely touched him a tall man in a long coat, hat shadowing his face. He stood perfectly still, watching her. She tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat.
He took a step forward.
"Are you lost?" His voice was soft, almost kind.
Elara's pulse raced. "Who are you?"
"Someone who remembers the Veyne name."
Lightning flashed again, and for a split second, she saw his eyes. Black. Reflective. Not human.
She stumbled back, gripping the lantern. "Stay away."
He tilted his head. "You shouldn't have left the house, Elara."
"How do you know my name?"
"The same way I know hers." He smiled faintly, and the expression chilled her blood. "The girl you seek. She dreams of you every night."
Elara's breath caught. "You've seen her?"
"She calls to you. The curse is already with her." His voice softened. "But you can still end it, if you come with me."
The rain fell harder. The trees seemed to lean closer, their branches shaking violently. A chorus of ravens shrieked from the canopy above, as if warning her away.
Elara took a step back. "You're lying."
The man's smile widened. "Then why does your shadow follow mine?"
She glanced down and froze. The light from her lantern stretched her shadow across the ground, long and distorted. But it wasn't hers alone. Another shadow clung to it, larger, darker, moving with her even when she didn't.
Panic rose in her throat. She turned and ran.
Branches clawed at her coat. Mud splashed up her legs. She didn't know where she was going only away. The forest twisted around her, paths vanishing into mist. The lantern sputtered, its light dying with every step.
Behind her came the sound of feathers.
The rain stopped abruptly. The silence was suffocating. She looked around, breathing hard, and realized she was standing in a clearing. At the center was an old wooden cross, half-buried in the earth. A grave. The name carved into it was nearly gone, but she could just make out the letters.
C. Veyne.
Her blood ran cold.
The lantern went out.
Darkness swallowed everything, and for a heartbeat, there was nothing no rain, no wind, no sound. Then came the flutter of wings, close, so close she could feel the air shift around her.
A whisper brushed against her ear.
"She's waiting for you."
And when Elara turned toward the voice, the world seemed to vanish into the black.