Chapter 1: The Arrival And Initial Discovery

This narrow, winding road was the sort the bus rattled down, years of bearing elements chipping away at what must once have been blue paint.Katherine Gomez sat forward, near the window, whereby scenes passing by interested her. Wheat fields swayed gently in the breeze to the shining,golden heads from the late afternoon sun. In far distance, against hilly and densely wooded surroundings, a huddle of buildings emerged-the village of downtown.

She clutched the worn leather satchel in her lap, fingers straying to the brass catch as of in a nervous caress. Inside was the letter offering her this job-the tangible proof, if she wanted, that all of this wasn't some wild dream, one that kept her anchored to this new life.

Over the weeks, she has spent lots of hours arguing with herself: moving here, yes, would prove to be correct; this minute village would grant her the peace she really wanted after having gone through turmoil during her past years.

It came to a stop on the periphery of the village square with a screech. Katherine stepped out, heels clicking on cobblestones streets as she looked around. The square was quaintly framed by stone cottages, thatched roofs, and window boxes spilling over the flowers. In the middle sat an ancient fountain whose white marble had grown moss-streaked with time.

She drew in a deep breath, savoring the crispness of the country air. It's was nothing like the city-no blaring horns, no smothering crowds. Just the chirping of birds, the hum of insects and the odd murmurs of the villagers going about their day.

"Excuse me, miss,"a voice came from behind her. Katherine turned to face a man in his late fifties, weathered but kind, tipping his flat cap in greeting. "Are you new around here?

"Yes, she replied, her voice softer than it should have been. "Just arrived. I am employed at the estate of Beaulieu.

As soon as the estate was mentioned, the smile on his face faltered and was replaced by a faint unease. "The Beaulieu estate, you say?" He scratched the back of his neck, glancing briefly towards the woods on the far edge of of the village. "Well, good luck with that. It's a peculiar place and pls be careful."

"peculiar how?" Katherine said. The only answer was him shaking his head, muttering something like, "You'll find out soon," as he slinked out the door to her house.

Katherine frowned but absorbed the hit and decided not to dwell on this. She turned her attention to the direction she'd scribbled in her notebook-the estate was a twenty minute walk from the village square, just over the woods.

The path to Beaulieu was overgrown, transmitting the tickle of tall grass on her knees, while above, the branches formed a canopy, filtering sunlight into soft dappled patches. Katherine shifted the strap of her bag higher on her shoulder, trying to disregard the prickling chill creeping up her spine.

She finally reached the estate and brought herself to a stop, her breath catching in her throat. Before her stood the Beaulieu estate, it's grandness worn but still undeniably. The main house was a sprawling structure of weathered stone, its once white shutters now peeling and gray. Vines clung to the walls as if in an attempt to claim the building for nature once more.

With that, she stepped through the iron gates groaning on their hinges and up the gravel driveway to the entrance. Her heels crunched against the stones, echoing off the otherwise silent grounds.

The heavy brass knocker on the door felt strangely cold as Katherine reached out, grasping it firmly and sending its weight crashing down with a sonorous echo through the empty halls inside. There was then a muffled sound of shuffling footsteps.

She now opened the door to a tall man in his early thirties, his dark hair rumpled and his blue-gray eyes studying her with mild curiosity. He was dressed casually, his shirt sleeves rolled up to disclose strong forearms.

"You must be Katherine Gomez, right," he said low and even tones.

"Yes," she said, straightening up. "I'm here to start as the archivist."

The man nodded. "I'm Lucien Beaulieu. Welcome to the estate."

He stepped aside and allowed her to enter. The interior of the house was just as forbidding as its exterior. High ceilings, intricate molding, and grand staircases spoke to another era when money and status were a given. But there was also an undeniable hint of dilapidation: faded wallpaper, cracked tiles, and furniture draped in dust-covered sheets.

"I'll show you to your quarters," Lucien said, politeness tingeing his distant tone.

Katherine's room was modest but comfortable: offering small bed, a wooden desk, and finally a window with a view over the gardens. As Lucien left her to settle, she couldn't catch herself but notice the tension in his bearing-a man weighed down, it seemed, by a burden invisible. Having unpacked all her things, Katherine decided to explore the archives she had been hired to organize. Tucked away in the East Wing of the house, it was a small room with an oak door and heavy hinges creaking under their own weight.

She stepped into an inside odorous with the smell of old paper and parchment, overbooked racks lined to a breaking point: books, thick ledgers, box upon box of documents; inside, dancing in the straining sun's rays slanted through high-up windows in air thick with particles of floating dust.

She ran her fingers along the spines of the books, some with titles so faded they were barely legible. This was where she'd spend her days, piecing together the estate's history. And perhaps, she thought, she might find a sense of purpose here too.

One evening,Katherine was sitting at the window with her eyes toward the darkening sky. The village lay far away, its lights flickering like the starlets.

Her mind wandered to the man she had left in the city-the one whose anger had left her with both visible and invisible scars. She came to Downtown as a means escaping from him and starting anew. Yet, it was the baggage of her past that seemed to stay on, a shadow she couldn't quite shake.

A soft knock at the door pulled her from her reverie.

"Come in," she called.

He stepped inside, a tray in his hands with a steaming cup of tea on it. "I thought you might like something warm before bedtime."He set the tray down on her desk. "Thank you," she replied, surprised by the gesture. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then Lucien broke the silence. "The estate has quite a history," he said, his stare far away. "Not necessarily a pleasant one." Katherine watched him, recognizing the pain underscoring his words. "Every place has its secrets," she said quietly. Lucien's gaze locked with hers, a silent understanding crossing between them. "Just be careful what you dig up," he warned as he turned to leave. The door shut behind him, and down Katherine spine ran a shiver. She sipped her tea, staring out into the darkness as her mind turned to what secrets the Beaulieu estate was keeping-and whether she was prepared to meet them.