Chapter 6 The House That Watches

When she woke, her neck ached and the light had shifted.

She blinked against the pale gray wash of sky outside. The trees were taller here - older, maybe. Thicker.

She wiped her face instinctively, as if she knew the tears had dried there.

Steve was still driving, expression unchanged. Same calm hands. Same silence. Nothing gave him away.

Elara sat up straighter, cleared her throat softly, and checked the time.

She must have been asleep for nearly an hour and a half.

Three minutes later, Steve spoke without turning.

"We've arrived."

The trees peeled back like curtains on a stage. And there it was.

The Mercer estate.

Stone gates rose like monoliths, sleek and ancient, part fortress, part artwork. Past them, the mansion emerged - impossibly vast, wrapped in a delicate glass and a looming shadow.

It looked like the kind of place that swallowed secrets whole and never spit them back. The kind of place stories begin - and not end quite the way you expect.

Her fingers curled tightly around the strap of her tote.

This was it.

Whatever it would become.

It was time.

And something inside her whispered - nothing will be the same again.