ch3
*Chapter 3: Secrets in the Dark*
The message on the mirror lingered in Claire's mind long after she had left the bedroom.
*"LEAVE WHILE YOU CAN."*
"Who had written it? And more importantly, when? "
The dried, faded color suggested it had been there for years—decades, even. But there was no dust on the surface of the glass, no layers of grime that should have settled over time.
"As if someone had cleaned it.
Recently.
A shiver crawled up Claire's spine."
She stood in the grand hallway of Blackwood Manor, gripping her flashlight, her breath slow and steady. The house had been abandoned for years, yet she had heard footsteps. Seen movement. Found untouched furniture and a freshly disturbed writing desk.
And the whisper. That *voice.*
*"Help me."*
Claire wasn't the kind of person to believe in ghosts. She dealt in facts, evidence, logic. But something about this place was different.
Something,Someone was watching.
She turned, scanning the hall once more. Silence. Stillness.
Then, in the distance—
A faint *creak*.
Claire's stomach tightened.
The sound had come from downstairs.
Someone was inside the manor with her.
---
She moved cautiously, her boots barely making a sound on the wooden floor. Every instinct screamed for her to leave, to turn around and walk out the way she came.
But she wasn't done here.
And whoever was lurking in the manor… they might know something.
She descended the staircase, pausing at the landing, her flashlight aimed at the entrance hall below.
The grand doors remained closed.
No signs of forced entry.
But the air felt charged, as though the house itself had woken from a long slumber.
Claire listened.
Nothing.
Still, she knew better than to ignore her instincts.
She moved toward the study, the room where she had found the old letters.
The door was slightly ajar. It had been shut when she left it.
She pushed it open.
The desk was just as she had left it, the scattered letters still in place. But something had changed.
A single sheet of paper now lay in the center of the desk, separate from the others.
It hadn't been there before.
She stepped closer, heart pounding, and picked it up.
The message was written hastily, the ink smudged.
"You are not safe here. Meet me at the chapel at midnight."
No signature. No explanation.
Claire's mind raced.
The chapel.
The same location mentioned in the old letter she had found.
Someone wanted her to go there.
But was it a warning? Or a trap?
---
The village chapel stood at the edge of Ravenshade, separated from the manor by a dense stretch of woods. It had been abandoned for years, its stone walls covered in creeping ivy, its bell tower crumbling with time.
Claire arrived a few minutes before midnight, flashlight in hand, her pocket knife tucked into her jacket—small, but reassuring.
The wind howled through the trees as she stepped through the arched doorway, her footsteps echoing against the cracked stone floor.
The air inside smelled of damp earth and something faintly metallic.
Blood?
She swallowed, pressing forward.
The pews were broken, scattered in disarray. Moonlight streamed through the shattered stained-glass windows, casting fractured colors along the cold walls.
No sign of anyone.
"Hello?" she called, her voice low.
Silence.
Had she been tricked?
She turned, scanning the shadows—
A figure emerged from the darkness.
Claire's breath caught.
The man was tall, thin, with hollow cheeks and a sharp, watchful gaze. His clothes were ragged, his coat worn at the edges. His hands trembled slightly.
"You shouldn't have come," he murmured.
Claire steadied herself. "You left me the note."
The man nodded once. "the letter."
Her mind spun. "You sent the letter to my home? The one about Eleanor Blackwood?"
He hesitated, then nodded again.
Claire stepped closer. "Who are you?"
A long pause. Then—
"Samuel Finch."
The name struck her immediately.
Samuel Finch—the historian. The same man the innkeeper had mentioned.
The one who had fled Ravenshade years ago, terrified and silent.
"What do you know about Eleanor Blackwood?" Claire asked, voice firm.
Samuel's hands clenched. "Too much."
He looked around, paranoid. "But we can't talk here. *He* is watching."
A cold knot formed in Claire's stomach.
"Who?"
Samuel's voice was barely above a whisper.
"Victor Blackwood."
Claire's blood ran cold.
Victor—the missing heiress's brother.
The one who had inherited Blackwood Manor after Eleanor vanished.
The one who had left town, never to be seen again.
Or so she had thought.
"He's here?" Claire whispered.
Samuel nodded. "He never left."
A sudden noise outside made them both freeze.
Footsteps.
Someone was coming.
Samuel's eyes widened in fear. "Run."
Claire didn't move. "What's happening?"
Samuel grabbed her wrist. "GO!"
A crash—
The chapel doors burst open.
And then—
Darkness.
---
Claire awoke to silence.
Her head throbbed. She was lying on the cold chapel floor, dust settling around her.
Samuel was gone.
Her flashlight flickered weakly nearby, rolling on its side.
She sat up, trying to piece together what had happened. The last thing she remembered—
The doors. Bursting open. A figure in the dark.
And then—
Nothing.
She scrambled to her feet, heart pounding.
She was alone.
"Had someone attacked her? Had Samuel run?"
The only thing she knew for sure was that something was very, very wrong.
She picked up her flashlight and stumbled toward the exit, gripping the stone walls for support.
Outside, the wind had died. The night was unnervingly still.
She turned toward the woods—
And froze.
A single figure stood at the edge of the trees.
Watching her.
Tall. Motionless.
Claire's breath caught in her throat.
The figure didn't move.
Didn't breathe.
Just *watch.*
The silence stretched unbearably.
Then—
The figure took a single step forward.
Claire didn't wait.
She ran.
---
To be continued…
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A/N:Next chapter tommaro. save this book pls.