Chapter 8 The First Touch

The birds didn't sing. The air in the manor was too still - as though the house itself had paused to listen. Ariella sat in the small garden just off the conservatory, trying to process everything: the mirror, the diary, the warning.

She turned another page of her mother's journal.

"They tried to keep us apart. Said our bloodlines were cursed to never mix, that love would awaken something ancient. But love was already there, and it changed everything. I don't regret him. I only regret the vow."

Ariella closed the book with trembling fingers.

She didn't hear Damian until he spoke. "You're reading her words."

She looked up to find him standing at the edge of the doorway, watching her.

"She loved your father," she said softly.

He nodded once. "It broke her. And it killed mine."

Ariella stood, book pressed to her chest. "Then why aren't we doing something? Why are we still playing along with this curse like it's a game?"

"Because this isn't a fairytale," he said, stepping toward her. "It doesn't end with a kiss."

Something in the way he said it - the bitter twist of his mouth - made her ache. But what happened next wasn't planned.

She moved past him, brushing his shoulder.

And in that small, accidental contact, the entire conservatory shivered.

Literally.

The vines on the glass trembled. The candles on the nearby table flickered violently. The shadows behind the garden doors twisted like smoke trying to escape.

Ariella and Damian both stopped.

"You felt that?" she whispered.

Damian turned to her slowly. "It's starting."

"What is?"

He took a step forward, as though drawn by something invisible.

"The bond."

She stepped back, suddenly afraid of something she couldn't name. "We're pretending. This isn't real."

"You think Ravenhall cares?" he said, voice low. "It doesn't know what's real or fake. It only knows what's felt."

He reached for her, and this time she didn't move.

Their fingers touched.

The entire chandelier above them burst into flame for a single second - then died, leaving nothing but smoke.

Ariella gasped, pulling her hand back.

"What was that?" she breathed.

Damian looked at her like he'd seen a ghost. "That was the house... feeding."

Silence stretched between them - deep, unnerving.

Ariella's heartbeat thundered in her ears. Not just from fear... but from the intensity of what had passed between them. Whatever this was - this bond the house was watching - it wasn't ordinary. It was volatile. Alive.

Damian spoke again, voice softer now. "We need to be careful."

Ariella met his gaze, throat dry. "Careful of what?"

"Of falling too deep," he said. "Because if we do... the house won't ever let us leave."

End of Chapter Eight.