Prologue, The fall
The bells of Rosehall rang only once that night. A single toll, deep, mournful, swallowed by the fog that coiled around the tower like a living thing.
It was winter, and the ivy had frozen against the stone, glassy with frost. The courtyard below slept in silence, its fountains sealed by ice, its statues watching through veils of moonlight. From the dormitories, not a soul stirred. Only the wind knew what would happen.
A woman ran.
Her dress, once white, was soaked in rain and fear. A streak of crimson marked her sleeve, not hers, perhaps, not yet. Her shoes slipped on the marble steps, the echo of each step ricocheting through the arches like a warning. She clutched a letter to her chest, the paper already warped by tears and stormwater.
Behind her, footsteps. Measured. Elegant. Male. The kind of sound that doesn’t rush, it hunts.
“Eleanor.”, His voice was velvet over steel. “You shouldn’t have come back.”
She turned, breathless, hair plastered to her face. “You said it was an accident,” she whispered. “You said you loved her. But it was all lies.”.
Lightning flickered across the sky, turning his features into a sculpted mask, beauty twisted by fury. “I protected you,” he hissed. “I built this world for you. For her. But you never understood your place.”.
Her fingers trembled as she held up the letter. “It’s too late,” she said. “The truth will outlive you, Adrian. And your sons will inherit nothing but your sins.”
A flash of movement, the sound of tearing silk, a cry that wasn’t fully human, and she stumbled backward toward the balustrade. The wind howled, carrying the scent of storm, salt and death. The letter slipped from her hand, dancing through the air like a dying bird.
He reached for her arm, maybe to pull her back, maybe not. The marble beneath her feet cracked. For one suspended moment, the world went quiet.
Then she fell.
Down through the mist, through centuries of secrets, through everything Rosehall had ever tried to bury. Her body struck the frozen fountain with a sound that split the night.
The bells rang again, twice this time. Once for her. Once for the child she left behind.
And somewhere in the dormitory beyond the courtyard, a girl of two years old began to cry.
