**Chapter 1: The Letter**
The envelope was old. That was the first thing Claire Westwood noticed when she picked it up from her stack of mail. The parchment, rough against her fingertips, had yellowed at the edges, and the ink of her name—written in precise, slanting cursive—was faded, as if it had been penned long ago. No return address. No stamp. Just *Claire Westwood, London* scrawled across the front.
She turned it over, hesitating.
Anonymous letters weren't uncommon in her line of work. As an investigative journalist, she had received everything from cryptic tips to outright threats. Most were either hoaxes or the ramblings of conspiracy theorists, but something about this envelope unsettled her. It had been slipped into her mail unnoticed. "Who had delivered it? And why in such an old-fashioned manner?"
Curiosity won over hesitation. She tore the top open and pulled out a single sheet of paper, the texture brittle, the ink faded but legible.
**"Miss Westwood,**
" If you seek the truth, come to Ravenshade. The answers to Eleanor Blackwood's disappearance lie in Blackwood Manor. The past is not as dead as you think. But be warned—some secrets are buried for a reason."
There was no signature. Just the initials *E.B.*
Claire frowned, reading the letter again. Eleanor Blackwood. The name was vaguely familiar, like something she had read in an old newspaper article. She pulled out her phone and typed the name into a search engine. Within seconds, headlines from over thirty years ago flashed across the screen.
"Heiress Eleanor Blackwood Vanishes Without a Trace – No Leads in Ravenshade Mystery."
"Blackwood Manor Abandoned Following Disappearance of Last Heiress."
"Cold Case: What Happened to Eleanor Blackwood?"
Claire tapped on the first article and scanned the text.
Eleanor Blackwood had been the only daughter of the wealthy Blackwood family, a lineage stretching back centuries in Ravenshade, a small village in the English countryside. She had vanished on the night of her twenty-first birthday in 1993. No body was ever found. No ransom note. No evidence of foul play. She had simply walked into the dark and was never seen again.
Her brother, Victor Blackwood, inherited the manor and reportedly left town after the scandal. The case had gone cold within months.
Claire exhaled slowly, running a hand through her dark auburn hair. She had covered many cases in her career—murders, disappearances, corruption—but something about this intrigued her.
The letter had been right about one thing. Some secrets were buried for a reason.
She reached for her coat.
---
The rain drummed against the café window as Claire sipped her black coffee, the bitter taste grounding her thoughts. Across from her sat Alan Peters, an old colleague from her days at *The London Gazette*, now a senior editor at *The Chronicle*. If anyone had information on old cases, it was Alan.
She slid the letter across the table. "Have you seen anything like this before?"
Alan adjusted his glasses and studied the paper. He was in his fifties, his once-dark hair now graying at the temples, but his mind remained sharp. "Anonymous letters aren't new," he said. "But this—this feels personal."
"You recognize the initials?"
"E.B. could be Eleanor Blackwood herself," he mused. "Or someone who knew her well." He tapped his fingers against the table. "You thinking of following this?"
Claire nodded. "Ravenshade isn't far. If there's something worth digging up, I want to find it."
Alan sighed, leaning back. "Be careful, Claire. You know how these old cases are. People don't always like journalists poking around in their pasts."
Claire smirked. "That's what makes it fun."
He chuckled but his expression turned serious. "Do me a favor—keep me updated. If you find something, don't go in alone."
She nodded, pocketing the letter. The case was waiting for her.
---
The train to Ravenshade was nearly empty, the countryside blurring past the rain-streaked windows. Claire flipped through articles on her tablet, piecing together the mystery of Eleanor Blackwood.
The night of her disappearance, Eleanor had attended a lavish birthday celebration at Blackwood Manor. Dozens of guests. Plenty of alibis. No signs of forced entry.
Some rumors suggested she had run away. Others whispered about a family curse, that the Blackwoods had always been doomed. But the most intriguing theory was that someone within the manor had wanted her gone.
Claire tapped her fingers against the armrest. What was the truth?
The train slowed as it pulled into the small Ravenshadestation. Claire grabbed her coat and stepped onto the platform. The air smelled of damp earth, and the village beyond was cloaked in mist.
She had arrived.
---
Ravenshade was the kind of place that time had forgotten. Narrow cobbled streets, stone cottages with ivy creeping up the walls, and a single gas-lit pub at the center of town. Claire walked through the village, her boots clicking against the wet pavement.
A few villagers glanced her way, their expressions unreadable. Outsiders were rare here, she suspected. She made her way to the only inn—a quaint, timber-framed building with a flickering sign reading *The Hollow Oak*.
Inside, the air was warm, scented with burning wood and aged ale. The innkeeper, a stout woman with graying hair, eyed Claire as she approached the counter.
"You're not from around here," she said.
"Just visiting," Claire replied smoothly. "Looking into an old story."
The woman's expression darkened. "Journalist?"
Claire hesitated before nodding.
The innkeeper wiped her hands on a rag. "If it's the Blackwood case you're here for, best turn around now. That house is cursed."
Claire tilted her head. "You believe in curses?"
"I believe in trouble." The woman leaned closer. "The last person who went digging into Eleanor's disappearance left town in a hurry. Never spoke a word of what they found."
"Who was it?"
The innkeeper shrugged. "A man from London. A Historian, I think. Looked half-dead when he left."
Claire felt a chill. "Do you know his name?"
Another shrug. "Samuel but it was years ago. But if you're smart, you'll leave it be."
Claire forced a smile. "I'll keep that in mind."
She collected her key and climbed the narrow staircase to her room. Once inside, she locked the door and pulled out the letter again.
Someone had wanted her here. Someone had led her to Blackwood Manor.
She will probably tomorrow, she would find out why.
---
To be continued…
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A/N:Next chapter tommaro. save this book pls.