rt

ed like a memor

e. Ivy clung to the stone walls of the mansion like a jealous lover, swallowing pieces of the

eps hesitant. This place - this forgotten piece of his past -

ing he

eaves and wood. The path to the front door was overgro

hispered. "It feels li

nodded.

e. To his surprise, it wasn't locked. He pushed it gently -

ntered

n of ghosts frozen mid-movement. Cobwebs glittered in shafts of light that filtered throug

hat had once been his father's st

as almost

sted in one corner, yellowed and peeling. The massive desk - carved w

licking across the bookshelves. "

ed. "But if my father hid some

ly photo half-eaten by mildew. Emma checked behind the books, ru

a faint

, freezing. "Did

ned. "What

" She reached behind a row of ol

ic

open, revealing a narrow com

faded velvet, was

it. "I've never

d it on the desk. The lock was simple.

ope - yellowed with age - and a s

cond

e one Michael had given

e inside were th

tials," Michael

and handed it to him. His fi

tter. The ink had faded, but

ring holds more than lineage - it holds the code. And once it's wo

p slowly. "What

"And what happens... no

the window, where shad

t wasn'

wakin

o: The S

's window catching its worn gold band. The engraving inside

whispered. "Why hide it? Why

sinking deeper into his thoughts. "...Once it's worn by so

ked. "A code? Bloodline? Th

father wasn't the type to speak in riddles. If he wrote

er one. They looked nearly identical - same pattern around the band, sa

sn't the original? What if the o

ed. "Then where d

y my uncle. He said it was my father's, pas

ng at the ring inside the box, "was hidden all

cted to some kind of... inheritance, or power, or le

hich means you were never meant to find

n, the weight of the discov

a faint

creaked somew

d snapped tow

hat too?" Em

. "Stay b

rom the desk - the only weapon in re

silent for years. A

ne else w

to the floorboards. Dust clung to the walls. Cobwebs

llway stretched ahead - a series of old do

flicker o

past the far end

d. "Did yo

d forward. "He

ans

ously, checking

the la

tly. And behind it, so

rweight and nudged the

m. The curtains were torn. The f

corner st

k beneath a tattered scarf. She clutched something c

d back. "Wh

er head. "You foun

iffened. "

s on Emma. "He said it would be a

chael excha

ophecy?"

woman on

" she said. "And you'

o the floor and fled through the do

ter her, but the

was

the paper. Her hands tr

sn't

bloodli

l's name at

- written

ee: Writt

rt in her hands, her fingers tig

me was

o Mich

as though added after everythin

a H

ose face had gone pale. "Wha

awled above his own were unfamiliar - old family names th

his eye. A circled crest with

inting. "My father had this engraved

ith her finger. "Do you

s here. My father's, too. So is m

"But I'm not part of

t. "Maybe you were never

the bed, the weight of

e a bloodline," Emma whispered. "Wha

g raw flickering in his eyes. "

past when worn by someone outside the bloodline. But what i

, processing. "Y

t fate.

broken glass of the bedroom window. Emma looked out over the overgrown

en she

eneath the old willo

ickly. "Mic

owed he

He wore a long coat, and even from this distance, t

tightened. "Th

ha

to the window. "That

ath caught

oked again, the

ish

ounded. "We have

hat if it's a trap? What if this is exa

breaking through his anger. "If that's r

a beat. "Then I'm

garden. The willow tree swayed in the wind, its long branches like fin

d around, calling out, "Dad? Are y

answer

the

ehind the tree - a glin

t down and

the p

s father a

d a photograph inside - of him as a

"Michael... someone lef

endant in his fis

wants you to

the house, its windo

etter. The char

s coincide

as beginning