Secrets of Blackwater Bay

felt colde

armth wasn't reaching her. She had been back at Blackthorn Manor for hours now, but the feeli

again. "Be careful, girl. There's always a price to pay for digging up old secrets."* He hadn't needed to tell

the wind like shadowy figures. The house seemed to creak and groan around her, settling into its bones as night deepened. There was

he dimly lit room, she was starting to regret that decision. She wasn't scared, exactly-it was

missed-some clue, some explanation for the strange occurrences since she had arrived. But the entries remained as vague

s the one that hau

oming for me. The house is no longer safe. I must find a w

ad her grandmother

the dark, tired of feeling like a pawn in a game she didn't understand. She needed

a froze, her heart skipping a beat. She turned toward the door, listening intentl

oor the night before. She hadn't seen him since, but the memory of his cold eyes

hallways felt longer in the dark, the shadows deeper, and every creak of the floorboards made her heart race a lit

overing over the lock. She took a deep breath, trying to s

e was

hrough the trees, the branches swaying violently, but the front steps were empty. She stepped o

something caught her eye-a folded piece

ld-fashioned envelope, yellowed and worn, her name written on the front in spi

the single sheet of paper inside. The message was short, wr

here. Leave befo

nd of warning? Was it her grandmother that had sent her this letter?

The walls seemed to close in around her, the silence of the house sudd

r not to come back. But why?

finding answers, on uncovering the truth, that she hadn't stopped to consider the danger she might be putting herself in. The journal, the s

t safe here, whe

She couldn't leave-she had come too far, and there were still too many questions unanswered. But staying felt

on her mind. There had to be more-more letters, more clues that could help her understand what was happening. She had

ad of her, half-hidden in shadow, but she didn't hesitate this time. She flicked on the light, the narrow staircase creaking under her weight

ressing down on her. But this time, Emma wasn't looking for answers in the old trunks or forgotten papers. She w

covered chest sat beneath a cobwebbed window. She hadn't looked inside it yet,

the chest, brushing away the thick layer of dust that covered the top. The brass lock was rust

tied together with brittle, yellowed string. Emma reached for the stack of letters,

over the years. But one letter, buried beneath the others, stood out. It was addressed

a beat. This letter

etter inside. The handwriting was familiar, but the tone of the letter was

ar

an no longer control. I have tried to keep it at bay, but the shadows grow stronger with each passing day. You cannot return here-for Emma's sake, stay away.

orry I couldn't p

o

a wave of disbelief washed over her. Grave danger. The bloodline.* Her grandmother had known-she had known all

away, but she had come back anywa

n. Emma backed away from the chest, her breath coming in shallow gasps. She needed to l

ck down the stairs, a loud c

come from downstairs-from the front door. Her mind raced

me to the door, the one who had disapp

move, her body trembling as she descended the narrow staircase. Every step felt heavier

e front door was wide open, the wind howling through the entryway, carrying the scent of rain

s she reached the doorway, she saw it-another envelope, lying on the front step, ca

know what it said. But she couldn't ignore i

d. Leave now, or fac

, carrying the letter from her hands and scattering it a

Whoever was after her

ime, they woul

-