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It came from inside one of the locked rooms.

The noise echoes in my head like a bad omen. It sounded like a muffled scream. I strain my ears to hear it again, but there’s nothing.

I touch the door. It feels like ice underneath my fingertips.

I have no business being here. I know that.

But at the same time, Ican’t bring myself to walk away. I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something on the other side of the door. And it’s been waiting for me.

I try to open the door.

It doesn’t budge.

I startle when I hear the muffled scream again. This time, my ears pick up another noise—footsteps coming up the staircasebehind me. I should walk away from this room, but I don’t want to.

I give the door another push.

And this time, it gives. It opens with such a force that I’m nearly flung into the room.

The first thing I notice is the silence. It feels almost oppressive, like the calm before a storm. Like the few quiet seconds before an argument erupts.

I carefully close the door and stare at it.

Something about the way the door just opened is odd. It’s almost like someone opened it for me from inside.

Footsteps echo down the corridor.

I wait with bated breath.

“Yes, the gardeners are scheduled to arrive early tomorrow morning.” It’s Helena, and it sounds like she’s talking on the phone with someone. “And if Suarez comes back, don’t let him in. I caught him loitering near Klaus’s study last week. I fired him immediately, but he claims he’s innocent and wasn’t trying to steal anything.”

There’s a pause.

“Yes, I need a replacement. Someone who can mind their own business would be best.”

Her voice fades into the background as she walks out of my hearing range.

I place my hand against my chest, feeling the loud thumping of my heart. My eyes have gotten used to the darkness in here, and I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.

Moonlight from an open window spills across the floorboards. The shadows on the walls appear to be moving.The logical part of my brain tells me that it’s just the shadow of the billowing curtain, but it feels like something else is in this room with me.

A faint perfume lingers in the air—warm vanilla and nutmeg.

My eyes sweep around the rest of the room.The opposite wall is a towering built-in bookshelf, packed with thousands of books—enough to rival a small library.Their spines are a riot of faded colors.They call to me, but I resist the temptation.

A canopy bed stands in the center of the room, draped by heavy, moth-eaten curtains. Beside it, a vanity table rests, its mirror clouded with age.

I walk toward the table with my heart hammering in my chest.

This is someone’s old bedroom. And I have a feeling I know exactly who it belonged to.

The vanity still holds traces of its past owner—a collection of lipsticks, a compact mirror, and an empty perfume bottle. There’s a velvet armchair in front of it, turned at an angle, like someone left it that way and never came back.

As my eyes adjust to the dark, I start making out the shadows on the walls. Some of them aren’t shadows but paintings.

My heart stops when I see the giant portrait. There are cobwebs around the edge of the frame. I hold my breath as the details show themselves to me.

It’s of a younger Klaus with his sister.