Chapter 3 : The Town's Gaze

The next morning, the house felt no less hostile, but Eliza couldn't stay locked inside. The air was heavy with the smell of damp wood and mildew, and the silence pressed down on her like a weight. She needed fresh air, a reprieve from the suffocating atmosphere.

As she walked into the town square, Hollowstead greeted her with its usual unease. The streets were mostly empty, save for a few locals who loitered by the shuttered shops. Their eyes followed her as she passed, their gazes lingering too long.

A child darted across the road, her laughter sharp and brittle. She stopped abruptly when she saw Eliza, her small face twisting into an expression of fear.

"Why did you come back?" the girl asked, her voice trembling.

Eliza blinked, startled. "I—my grandmother passed away. I'm just here to take care of her estate."

The girl shook her head, her pale hair glinting in the weak sunlight. "You shouldn't have come back. They'll come for you, too."

Before Eliza could respond, the child ran off, disappearing into an alley.

Her unease grew as she approached the town's general store. Inside, the air smelled of stale bread and mothballs. The shopkeeper, an older man with a hunched back and watery eyes, eyed her warily as she entered.

"Ravenswood," he muttered, his tone thick with disdain.

"Excuse me?" Eliza asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, his gaze flicking toward the windows as if afraid someone might overhear. "The Ravenswood bloodline brings nothing but trouble. Always has."

She frowned, frustration bubbling beneath her fear. "I don't know what you're talking about. I just want to settle my grandmother's affairs and leave."

The shopkeeper snorted, shaking his head. "Leave? They won't let you. Once you're marked, you're theirs."

Eliza opened her mouth to demand an explanation, but the man turned away, muttering under his breath. She left the store empty-handed, her chest tight with unease.

As she made her way back to the manor, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The townspeople whispered as she passed, their words a low murmur that seemed to echo in her ears.

When she reached the gates of the estate, she paused, glancing over her shoulder. The fog had thickened, swallowing the road behind her.

And in the distance, barely visible through the mist, stood a figure. Tall, still, and watching.

Eliza turned and ran inside, slamming the gate shut behind her.

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