Sera's POV
"Ma! I'm off!" I yelled, bursting through the front door, the hinges squealing.
"Sera, for God's sakes—take it easy!" came my mum's exasperated voice from inside the house.
I rolled my eyes but smiled. "You say that every time I breathe too loud, Ma!" I shouted back, standing on the front steps with the morning sun warming my face. The light felt different today—more alive, like it had been waiting just for me.
My heart thudded in my chest, each beat a burst of pure, irrepressible joy.
You might be wondering what's got me so excited. Today—finally—my mother had allowed me to release my wings. Not literally.
Today's flight was just a bus ride away—but it might as well have been freedom.
I'd never been allowed to do the things normal kids did. I'd watched them from my window—girls my age sneaking out to meet boys, laughing too loudly, living too easily. Meanwhile, I was the ghost girl next door.
I had to dye my hair from white to black to "blend in," as Mum called it. I was homeschooled, supervised. Mum said "very bad people" would hurt me if they found me, but she never said who. Or why.
"Remember to keep your head down," Mum said suddenly behind me. I hadn't even heard her approach. "Don't talk to strangers. And when you get to the Blackwood Estate, ask for the butler. He is the one to arrange the payment."
"The Blackwood Estate…" I repeated softly. Everyone in our town whispered about the Blackwoods.
"Do not go inside," Mum continued sharply. "Collect the money and come back home. I'll ask Lina to wait for you at the bus stop."
Lina—my one and only friend. She lived next door, worked at a café part-time. She was also my only link to the outside world, and the only person Mum tolerated near me.
"Now go," she urged me.
"See ya, Mum!" I called.
"I love you!" she shouted.
"Love you too!" I yelled back, not daring to turn around. If I saw her face one more time, she might change her mind, and I couldn't handle another round of "It's not safe out there, Sera." My mother had a way of undoing my freedom with a single worried look.
The stairs down from our apartment creaked. I took them two at a time.
Mum had always handled the deliveries herself. But last week, she'd slipped on the back steps. Landed on a nail and sprained her leg. That accident, for once, had bought me a slice of freedom.
The thought made me grin as I jogged the last block toward the bus stop. Freedom had a sound today—the low whine of the arriving bus brakes, the shuffle of commuters, the buzz of the town.
I slid into an empty seat by the window, pressed my forehead against the cool glass, and let the motion of the bus lull my nerves.
Out there, the world looked ordinary—people walking dogs, kids with earbuds, coffee carts steaming.
The closer we got to the Blackwood district, the quieter it became. The buildings turned older, lesser.
At the Blackwood Stop, the bus hissed to a halt. I smiled at the driver and stepped off.
The road to the estate curved through dense woodland. I pulled my jacket tighter and kept walking.
Everyone knew the story of the curse of Blackwood. Some said it was lycanthropy, others said that the Blackwoods had bound themselves to a demon generations ago. Either way, people whispered that you shouldn't be anywhere near that place during a full moon.
And at the center of it all was him.
Eric Blackwood. The last heir. The recluse.
We were the same, I thought as I followed the gravel path.
The only difference was that his isolation was a choice. Mine was a prison disguised as protection.
The Blackwood estate came into view.
My stomach tightened.
I wasn't supposed to go inside. Mum's words echoed in my head: Collect the money and come straight home.
The gravel path ended in a sweep of marble steps. I climbed them.
When I reached the front door, it opened before I could knock. A maid stood there. "Hi, miss," she said briskly.
"Um, hi. My mum sent me. I'd like to see—"
"Oh right, come with me," she cut in, already turning on her heel.
I blinked. "Excuse me, my mum said not to—"
But she was halfway down the corridor. She didn't even glance back to see if I was following.
"Come on, miss. Mr. Blackwood is waiting."
That name stopped me. Mr Blackwood? My pulse jumped. My mother had been very clear—don't go inside, ask for the butler, collect the money, leave. No mention of meeting the heir himself.
"Is the butler in?" I asked carefully, lowering my voice.
"Not at the moment," she replied without slowing. "He took Mrs Blackwood to a clinic nearby. Emergency. I was given specific instructions to ensure you see Mr Blackwood."
"But—"
We turned a corner, and my protest died on my tongue. The hallway stretched long and gleaming.
The maid stopped at a door at the far end of the corridor. She produced a key from the pocket of her apron and fitted it into the lock.
I hesitated. "Are you sure this is where—"
"Just go in, miss. He's expecting you."
Before I could answer, she pushed gently at my shoulder. I stumbled one step forward, and the door closed behind me with a solid thunk. Then came the unmistakable sound of a lock turning.
I froze, staring at the ornate handle. "Um… hello?" My voice echoed into the vastness of the room.
"What in the world is happening?" I stammered. My gaze scanned the room, but my focus immediately landed on a figure lying on the bed. The sunlight filtering through the drapes caught the fine strands of his hair, giving him an almost unreal glow. My pulse raced.
"Excuse me… excuse me, sir. Mr. Blackwood?" I tried to steady my voice, but it came out higher than intended, bordering on squeaky.