The suitcase wouldn't close.
Ivy Mandell groaned and sat on the edge of her bed, pressing her hands against the stubborn flap. It bounced back open like it had a mind of its own. Her favorite black hoodie spilled over the side, hanging like it didn't want to leave. She didn't blame it. She didn't want to leave either.
"You're sitting on it wrong," her sister Kate said from the doorway, arms crossed, her short blonde hair slightly messy like it always was in the morning. "You have to press from the middle. Not like you're killing it."
"I am killing it," Ivy muttered. "Or trying to."
Kate walked in and knelt beside her, her hands calm and practiced as she zipped it up with ease. Ivy didn't look up. Her throat was tight again, like every time she had to say goodbye to their house, their old lives. Their parents' laughter still echoed faintly in the corners of every room. Ivy had tried to memorize their voices. She was scared she'd forget them someday.
"You sure you wanna come with me?" Kate asked gently, brushing hair out of Ivy's face. "You don't have to. I could go alone. It's just a babysitting job."
"I'm not staying here alone," Ivy said quickly, her voice colder than she meant it to be. "There's nothing left here."
Kate didn't argue. She just nodded, stood up, and grabbed her own bag. "Alright, then. Let's get going."
The drive to Bly felt like a different world. Ivy pressed her face to the car window, watching as the city disappeared behind them. The trees grew thicker, taller, more tangled. Roads narrowed into cracked pavement, then dirt paths. Her phone had already lost service. The sky was getting darker even though it was barely past noon. Heavy clouds crawled over the sun like they wanted to swallow it whole.
Kate seemed calm, humming a tune Ivy didn't recognize. She kept glancing at the printed directions in her lap. No GPS. No signs. Only trust.
Ivy didn't speak. Her stomach was twisted. She didn't know why.
Something about the silence out here felt different.
Not peaceful.
Empty.
Bly Manor appeared behind the trees like something out of a forgotten dream.
It was massive — stone walls covered in green vines, tall windows like watching eyes. The gate creaked open slowly as they pulled in, the gravel crunching under the tires. The house looked... frozen in time. Not abandoned, but not alive either.
They parked in front, and Kate turned off the engine. "This is it," she said, forcing a smile. "Looks kinda like a castle, huh?"
Ivy just stared. Something about the house made her want to whisper, like talking too loud would wake something up.
The heavy wooden doors opened before they even reached them. A woman in her sixties stepped out. She wore a dark gray dress and apron, her gray-streaked hair pinned up neatly. Her face was kind, but her eyes were sharp. Mrs. Grose.
"You must be Kate," she said warmly, walking down the steps.
Kate smiled and shook her hand. "Yes! And this is my sister, Ivy. I hope that's alright. She's been... well, she's coming with me for a while."
"Of course," Mrs. Grose said, her eyes briefly landing on Ivy before returning to Kate. "There's more than enough room in Bly. Come in, come in. Flora's been waiting all morning."
"Flora?" Ivy asked quietly.
"The girl we're looking after," Kate said as they followed Mrs. Grose inside.
The entrance hall was enormous. A chandelier hung above them, dusty but still beautiful. Paintings lined the walls — serious men and pale women staring down with cold eyes. The floor creaked softly with every step, and the air smelled faintly of old wood, roses, and something Ivy couldn't name. Something faintly sweet, but off.
Footsteps echoed down the stairs.
A small girl in a pale pink dress appeared, her brown hair neatly brushed and tied back with a ribbon. She smiled brightly the moment she saw them.
"Kate!" she said, running down the stairs. "You're here!"
Kate crouched down and hugged her gently. "Hey, Flora! Wow, you've gotten so big."
"I'm not big," Flora said with a giggle. "I'm perfectly small."
She turned her eyes to Ivy. "Is this your sister?"
Ivy nodded, giving a soft wave. "Hi."
"I'm Flora," she said proudly. "Do you like games?"
"I guess."
"Good! We'll play lots."
She grabbed Ivy's hand and tugged. "Come see the house! It's really big, and I've already picked your room."
"Flora," Mrs. Grose said gently. "Let her breathe. They've just arrived."
"But she has to see it," Flora insisted. "She'll love it."
The room Flora brought her to was on the second floor, down a long, dim hallway that seemed colder than the rest of the house. Flora opened the door wide and grinned.
"This one!"
The room was surprisingly clean, with white walls and tall windows. The bed was made with dark sheets, and a vanity stood by the window, its mirror cracked slightly at the top corner. Ivy stepped inside slowly.
"Who stayed here before?" she asked.
"No one now," Flora said simply, avoiding the question. "But you can have it. You look like her."
"Who?"
But Flora was already gone, skipping down the hall.
Ivy turned to the vanity and touched the edge of the mirror. The crack looked like a vein — thin, branching out across the top like it had been hurt. She glanced at the drawers. One of them was slightly open. Inside was a hairbrush with long black strands still tangled in its teeth.
Ivy shivered and pushed it shut.
Dinner was quiet at first. The dining room was long and dim, with candles lit along the table. Kate, Ivy, Mrs. Grose, and Flora sat at one end, their plates filled with something warm and heavy — roasted vegetables and stew. Ivy picked at hers. The silence between everyone felt too loud.
Flora was the only one talking. She talked about the garden, the frogs in the pond, the way the wind whistled like it was whispering secrets.
"Ivy," she said suddenly, leaning toward her, "do you have any brothers?"
Ivy blinked. "No. Just Kate."
"I do," Flora said proudly. "He's older than me. But he's away. He got sent off for being naughty. But he's coming back tomorrow. Isn't that exciting?"
Kate and Mrs. Grose exchanged a quick glance, but said nothing.
Ivy forced a smile. "Yeah. That's... cool."
Flora clapped her hands. "You'll like him. I know you will."
Mrs. Grose cleared her throat and stood. "Time for bed, I think."
That night, Ivy lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. The wind outside howled softly. The trees scratched against the windows like they were trying to get in.
She kept thinking about Flora's words.
He's coming back tomorrow.
She didn't know why it made her feel so cold.