The mansion stood cloaked in heavy silence as Elion stepped inside, the faint click of his shoes echoing through the vast marble hallways. The air was thick, carrying the musty scent of aged paper and faint traces of lavender, now stale. Shadows pooled in the corners, stretching along the ornate walls where flickering sconces cast trembling light.
The oppressive hush pressed down on him, making every sound—every breath—feel louder, as if the house itself was holding its breath. His sharp eyes scanned the dim corridors, seeking any sign of life. The air carried the familiar scent of old books and polished wood, but something felt... off.
His steps carried him towards the library—the place where he often found Raelynn buried beneath stacks of books, her delicate fingers tracing over ancient texts. He pushed open the heavy door without knocking, his gaze flicking around the towering shelves and empty armchairs.
Nothing.
