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The letter arrived on an otherwise unremarkable Tuesday, tucked into a thick envelope sealed with red wax. Aria stared at it, her morning coffee growing cold on the counter. She hadn’t spoken to her Aunt Cecilia in years—why would she send her anything?

Tearing open the envelope, Aria pulled out a single sheet of parchment. The words written in a neat, flowing script made her hands tremble.

To my dearest niece, Aria,

I leave you the one thing I held dearest in life: Ever have no Manor. It is yours now. Though I must warn you, its halls hold secrets and burdens you may not be prepared to face. But I trust you will.

With love,

Cecilia

Beneath the letter was a deed, signed and notarized, confirming that the sprawling manor was now hers. She could barely process it. Ever haven Manor. She’d heard of it, of course. A sprawling estate far from the city, tucked away in the countryside, shrouded in mystery and local legends.

Aunt Cecilia had always been eccentric, her life a tapestry of strange stories and enigmatic behavior. Aria remembered family gatherings where Cecilia would sit at the edge of the room, staring out of the window as though she were looking for someone who wasn’t there.

For years, the family whispered about her isolation and obsession with the manor. Some said it was cursed; others said she was merely mad. Aria had never believed the rumors, but now, holding the letter in her hands, she couldn’t shake the sense of unease that crept over her.

It came at the perfect time. Her life in the city had been unraveling. A dead-end job, a failed relationship, and the crushing weight of endless responsibilities had left her desperate for change. Perhaps this was her chance—a fresh start in a place no one could find her.

Two weeks later, Aria stood at the gates of Ever haven Manor, suitcase in hand. The cab driver had barely stopped long enough for her to get out, muttering something about bad omens and cursed houses before speeding off down the empty road.

The manor loomed before her, more imposing than she had imagined. It was massive, with ivy crawling up its dark stone walls and windows that gleamed faintly even in the gray light of the overcast sky. The wrought-iron gates creaked as she pushed them open, the sound echoing into the stillness.

As she approached the front doors, the air seemed to grow heavier. A strange sensation prickled at the back of her neck, like she was being watched. She shook off the feeling and stepped inside.

The interior was breathtaking—both beautiful and eerie. A grand staircase spiraled upward, its bannister intricately carved. The walls were adorned with portraits of unfamiliar faces, their painted eyes following her as she moved.

The mirror caught her attention immediately. It stood in the center of the foyer, massive and ornate, its golden frame carved with strange symbols that seemed to shift in the flickering light. Aria felt an inexplicable pull toward it, but as she stepped closer, a cold shiver ran down her spine.

Her reflection seemed... off. It moved as she moved, yet there was a flicker—something in the corner of the mirror, just for a moment. She turned around, but the foyer was empty.

“Get it together, Aria,” she muttered to herself, dragging her suitcase toward the staircase.

She chose the room closest to the main hall, its windows overlooking the overgrown gardens in the back. The furniture was old but elegant, and the bed looked inviting despite the thick layer of dust covering everything.

As she began unpacking, she felt the sensation again—that was prickling at the back of her neck, as though someone was standing just behind her.

Spinning around, she found nothing but the empty room. But the shadows seemed darker than they should have been.

That night, as Aria lay in bed staring at the ceiling, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t alone in the house. The wind howled outside, rattling the windows, but inside, the silence was oppressive. It was as though the manor itself was holding its breath, waiting for something.

For the first time, Aria wondered if the stories about Everyone might hold some truth. And deep down, she felt certain that her aunt’s warning had been more than just words.

This was no ordinary inheritance

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Aria clutched the crumpled letter in her hand as the taxi bumped along the desolate road. The estate her estranged aunt had left her sounded like a dream on paper—a vast, sprawling property nestled in the countryside, far away from the chaos of the city. But now, as the taxi climbed the hill leading to the manor, that dream felt more like a shadowy mystery.

The first glimpse of the manor sent a chill down her spine. It stood like a sentinel against the sky, its ivy-covered walls cloaked in mist. The gates screeched as the driver nudged them open, and Aria’s breath hitched at the sight of the structure in full view. The building exuded an air of grandeur, but it was unmistakably worn, its windows dark and unwelcoming.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright here, miss?” the driver asked, glancing nervously at the rearview mirror.

“I’ll be fine,” Aria said, her voice steadier than she felt. She stepped out of the taxi, her boots crunching on the gravel driveway, and stared up at the house. The wind tugged at her coat as she dragged her suitcase toward the entrance.

The massive oak doors groaned as she pushed them open, revealing a foyer that stole her breath. A grand chandelier hung from the ceiling, its crystals dulled by dust, casting fractured light across the room. The air inside was cold, tinged with the scent of old wood and something faintly metallic.

The house was eerily still, yet Aria felt as though she were being watched. Her gaze landed on the mirror standing at the heart of the foyer. It was enormous, its ornate frame carved with strange symbols she couldn’t decipher. The surface of the mirror gleamed unnaturally, reflecting the dim light with an almost liquid quality.

She approached it, her footsteps echoing in the silence. As her reflection came into view, she froze. For a split second, she thought she saw something—or someone—move behind her. Heart racing, she spun around, but the room was empty.

“It’s just the nerves,” she muttered, but the uneasy feeling lingered.

Dragging her suitcase up the staircase, she explored the manor’s upper floors. The hallways seemed to stretch endlessly, their faded wallpaper peeling in places. Doors lined either side, some slightly ajar, revealing rooms filled with antique furniture shrouded in white sheets.

One room caught her attention—a study. The door creaked open as she stepped inside. Shelves upon shelves of books lined the walls, their spines worn and dusty. A large desk sat in the center, its surface littered with papers yellowed by time.

As she stepped closer to the desk, a faint chill brushed past her, like a draft slipping through an unseen crack. She turned abruptly, her heart hammering in her chest, but the room was empty.

“Hello?” she called, her voice barely above a whisper.

The only reply was the faint rustling of the papers on the desk. Aria’s unease deepened as she retreated to the doorway. For a moment, she thought she heard something—a soft whisper, too quiet to make out.

She shook her head, trying to dispel the feeling of being watched. This was her new home, and she wasn’t going to let fear drive her away. But as she stepped back into the hallway, the distinct sound of footsteps echoed faintly behind her.

Turning quickly, she saw nothing but the empty study. The door creaked shut on its own.

Aria’s grip tightened on the railing as she hurried back to the foyer, vowing to unpack and settle in despite the unease clawing at her chest. But deep down, she knew she wasn’t alone in this house. Something—or someone—was watching.

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The first night in the manor was far from peaceful. Aria had spent hours unpacking her things, yet the unsettling silence of the house refused to leave her. Every creak of the floorboards, every faint rustle, made her heart race. By the time she lit the last candle in her bedroom, exhaustion had set in, but sleep seemed a distant hope.

She lay in bed, staring at the ornate ceiling with its faded mural of a starry sky. Her eyes followed the painted constellations, trying to lose herself in their beauty. But the stillness of the night was unnatural. It wasn’t just quiet; it was suffocating.

Hours passed—or perhaps only minutes. Aria wasn’t sure. Her mind was somewhere between wakefulness and sleep when a sound jolted her fully awake. A soft, low whisper echoed through the room.

“Aria…”

Her breath caught in her throat. Sitting up, she scanned the room, the candle’s flame flickering violently. “Who’s there?” she whispered, her voice trembling.

The silence returned, but it wasn’t comforting. It felt heavier, pressing down on her. She reached for the candleholder, clutching it like a weapon as she slid out of bed. The wooden floor was cold beneath her bare feet as she moved toward the door.

The hallway stretched out before her, bathed in shadow. The faint light from her candle barely pierced the darkness, and every step she took seemed to echo endlessly. At the far end of the hall, the mirror stood, its surface gleaming unnaturally even in the dim light.

Aria hesitated. Her pulse quickened as she approached it, drawn by some invisible force. As she came closer, her own reflection stared back at her—pale, wide-eyed, and frightened. But then it changed.

A figure appeared behind her in the mirror. A man, tall and shadowy, with piercing eyes that seemed to glow faintly.

Aria spun around, her candle flickering out with the motion. “Who are you?” she demanded, her voice shaking.

When she turned, he was no longer in the mirror but standing in the hallway before her. He was pale, his form faintly transparent, and he radiated a chilling presence. His dark hair fell around his face, and his eyes bore into hers with an intensity that froze her in place.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice low and resonant, sending a shiver down her spine.

Aria clutched the extinguished candleholder tighter. “This is my home now. Who… what are you?”

The man didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a step closer, and the air around her seemed to drop several degrees. “Leave,” he said, his voice softer now but no less commanding. “Before it’s too late.”

She wanted to run, to bolt back to her room and pretend this wasn’t happening. But something in his eyes held her in place—something that wasn’t anger or malice, but sorrow.

“I can’t leave,” Aria said, her voice barely above a whisper. “This is my home.”

The man looked at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, without another word, he faded away, dissolving into the shadows.

The hallway was empty again, but the chill lingered. Aria stood there, shaking, before she finally forced herself to move. She returned to her room, bolted the door, and relit the candle. But sleep didn’t come for the rest of the night.

As dawn broke, Aria sat by the window, watching the first rays of sunlight creep over the horizon. The encounter felt like a dream, but the fear in her chest told her it was real. There was a presence in this house, and it wanted her gone.

But Aria wasn’t ready to give up. If this man—this ghost—was tied to the house, she needed to know why.

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