Beneath the Surface

The days that followed were filled with strange occurrences. Lila couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss in Blackthorn Manor—an unease that gnawed at her every time she crossed the threshold into one of its many rooms. The house seemed to hum with a life of its own, as though the walls whispered secrets she was never meant to hear.

But it was the locked door—the one she had found in the west wing—that lingered most in her mind. Every time she passed it, she felt an undeniable pull, as if the door were calling her to uncover what lay behind it.

She could still hear Adrian’s words echoing in her head: Not every door should be opened.

Yet, despite the warning, her curiosity only grew stronger.

One evening, when the house was unusually quiet, Lila found herself standing once more in front of the door. Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached for the knob. This time, it felt different—more urgent, as though the very house itself was holding its breath.

Her fingers grazed the cool metal, and for a split second, she could have sworn she heard a faint whisper from the other side.

Lila.

The sound was so soft, so indistinct, that she thought she might have imagined it. But the chill running down her spine told her otherwise.

She turned the knob slowly, praying it would be unlocked. To her surprise, the door creaked open with a groan, revealing a small, dimly lit room beyond.

Lila stepped inside, her breath catching in her throat. The room was sparsely furnished, with only a few pieces of heavy furniture covered in dust. But what drew her attention was the large, ornate mirror that stood against the far wall.

It wasn’t like the other mirrors in the manor—it was framed in dark wood, with intricate carvings of vines and thorns. The glass was cracked in several places, but the reflection it gave back was unsettlingly clear.

Lila approached it cautiously, drawn to the mirror like a moth to a flame. As she gazed into it, her own reflection stared back, but something about it seemed… off.

Behind her, in the mirror, stood a figure.

It was a woman, pale as death, with long black hair and hollow eyes. Lila's heart skipped a beat as she spun around, but there was no one there. The room was empty, save for the dust and the dim light that filtered through the cracked windows.

Was she losing her mind? Had the house finally driven her to madness?

But when she looked back at the mirror, the woman was still there—staring at her.

Lila... you must leave this place.

The voice was clearer now, as though it were speaking directly to her.

Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind her with a deafening bang. Lila spun around, panic rising in her chest as she rushed to the door. But it was locked, the knob cold and unyielding beneath her frantic grasp.

No one ever leaves Blackthorn Manor.

The voice was stronger now, echoing in her mind, filling her with an overwhelming sense of dread. She pounded on the door, desperate to escape, but it wouldn’t budge.

Then, just as quickly as it had all begun, the door swung open. Adrian stood in the doorway, his eyes dark and unreadable.

“What are you doing in here?” His voice was low, controlled, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

Lila stepped back, her breath ragged. “I… I don’t know. I heard something—someone—”

Adrian’s gaze flicked to the mirror, then back to her. “Get out.”

There was no kindness in his words, no understanding. Just cold command.

Lila hesitated, but the look in his eyes left her no room to argue. She turned and fled from the room, her heart racing in her chest.

The next morning, Lila couldn’t shake the image of the woman in the mirror. Her eyes—those hollow, empty eyes—haunted her every thought. She had to know who she was, what she meant.

But as she made her way down the long corridor, she ran into Adrian again. He was standing in the doorway of the study, watching her with a look of quiet intensity.

“You’re not supposed to be there,” he said, his voice colder than the last time they spoke.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“I warned you,” Adrian cut her off, stepping closer. His height and presence loomed over her, making her feel small, insignificant.

His fingers grazed her arm as he passed by her, and for the briefest moment, she felt a strange current pass between them—a jolt of electricity that sent her heart racing.

Before she could say anything, he was gone, disappearing into the study with a final glance over his shoulder.

Lila stood frozen in the hallway, the air thick with tension. What was happening? Why couldn’t she stay away from Adrian, from the house?

And more importantly: What was it about Blackthorn Manor that was pulling her deeper into its dark, tangled web?

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