The Merryfield Manor

A Dark Forest.

Estella looked around and saw only a dark forest, shrouded in dense fog that enveloped the trees. There were no green meadows, no yellow daffodils, no blue ponds, or even the white clouds of a summer sky- none of the images she had envisioned when she heard the name "Merryfield Manor."

A shiver ran across her skin, but it wasn't just the cold. Somewhere behind the tall trees, she felt the weight of unseen eyes. As the trees loomed closer, doubts crept in; Should she return home to Hawthorne, nestled far to the south in the lands of Malva?

The truth was, the pay here was better than what she earned sewing clothes. To support her younger brother and give him a chance at schooling, she told herself she must take the risk of crossing this forest in the hills of Avonmound.

But even in her own mind, parts of that story felt like a half truth - fragments she kept carefully guarded. A name she couldn't say aloud yet. A letter tucked in the hem of her bag. And a promise she'd sworn never to break - no matter the cost.

Merryfield Manor stood at the heart of this misty region, accessible only by a road known to the locals. The Manor, a summer retreat of the esteemed County Eendrall, stood as a refuge from the sweltering heat. However, this year's premature warmth has taken its toll, claiming some of the staff at the manor.

In response, the County's offer to bring in temporary help had drawn Estella and others to this enigmatic estate, though none knew the real reason for her arrival.

A sudden jolt made her turn back inside the wooden carriage. Her irritation was apparent in her eyes as she glanced at the back of the coachman. She then looked around at the others who accompanied her to fill the vacancies left by the sick servants of the manor.

There were four people, including her. It seemed all the staff here are women, as if the manor doesn't allow men to work on the premises, except for the coachman.

She glanced at the brunette sitting to her left, restless, with sweat glistening on her forehead and her eyes darting here and there. She appeared younger than Estella.

"Are you alright?" asked Estella quietly. The girl glanced back at her, her piercing emerald eyes locking onto Estella's black ones.

"I am fine," she replied.

"I am Estella Hawthorne. What's your name?"

"Rose."

Rose's gaze dropped, and silence stretched between them.

"Where are you from?" Estella pressed gently.

"Grimrock," Rose replied softly.

"That's at the base of the hills," Estella said, more to herself than to Rose.

Rose nodded in acknowledgment.

"Have you been to the manor before?"

"No," Rose replied, still avoiding Estella's eyes.

Silence settled, thick and uneasy.

Rose was not one for small talk, and Estella understood the weight of unspoken stories.

She sighed, her gaze drifting to the two seated across her. Both had their eyes closed, their faces pale in the dim light. Were they trying to rest, or hiding from the uncertainty that lay ahead?

The ride ended in silence, broken only by the crunch of leaves and twigs beneath the wheels.

As the trees parted, the fortress of Eendrall emerged from the fog, its imposing structure looming before them.

Estella's gaze climbed the stone façade, her curiosity piqued by the secrets hidden within its ancient walls. Her thoughts drifted briefly to the life she left behind, to the truths she'd never voiced, and to the mission she must see through, no matter the cost.

She adjusted her gloves and reminded herself: no matter what happened within those walls, she could never forget who she truly was.