Whispers of Midnight

like a sentinel, its towering spires reaching for the sky as though challenging the very elements to break its ho

tten memories that had never fully been laid to rest. Yet, nothing in her wildest imaginings had prepared her for the sheer presence of the house. There wa

thing more. She couldn't afford to let her imagination run wild, no matter how intimidating the place seemed. Velvet Manor wa

front door, she couldn't shake

he man who appeared before her was striking-dark, almost unnaturally so, with eyes as deep and blue as the midn

said in a deep, smooth voice.

ing unsettling. Maybe it was the way his gaze lingered just a moment too long, or the way the shadows seemed to follow h

lied. "Thank yo

legance. Marble floors gleamed underfoot, polished to perfection. The walls were lined with portraits, their dark, somber eyes following her as she passed. The faces w

cent of aged wood. It was a strangely comforting fragrance, though it didn't do much to ease the t

said, leading her down a long cor

that this was all part of her work. She was here for a reason-to help Damien tell his story

anything she had imagined. Rich mahogany bookshelves lined the walls, filled with books of every shape and size. A massive firep

against a large oak desk, his posture relaxed but

low and inviting, "I hope the ma

o the house or to Damien himself. There was something magnetic about him, something that made her feel both drawn to him and on edge at the same time. It wasn't just his s

ng to the chair across from his desk. "I've

own, placing her bag gently on the floor beside her. Damien took h

casual, though there was an intensity behind his words that made her stomach flip. "I understand y

st her. "I've read a little about your family, of course," she said. "But

t reach his eyes. He paused, his fingers drumming lig

ls, the tragedies, the ghosts-and they take them as fact." His eyes narrowed, his gaze sharp. "But there's much more to it

ke sense of what he was say

the air. "I'm sure you've heard the whispers," he said, his voice quieter now, almost as if he were confiding in her. "They

ors of a tragic love affair, a woman's disappearance, the lingering spirits that haunted the manor's halls. But she had always dismissed the

said, her voice ba

ouldn't quite place. "This house is alive with memories," he said, his voice almost reverent. "It

ut we'll get to that in time. For now, I think

ak. This was no ordinary family history. Velvet Manor was no ordinary house. A

r in the sky, Amara felt an overwhelming sense that she had just cr