The village of Elmsbury was always quiet in October, wrapped in a blanket of fog and forgotten secrets. Ivy crawled up the stone cottages like time trying to reclaim what was once its own. The air smelled of wet earth, of memory. And of something else—something older than time.Ameira was not a believer in ghosts. At least, she wasn't until the night she met him.She first saw him by the old well, his figure barely visible through the mist. He wore a dark coat, a little too long for modern fashion, and eyes that shimmered like dying stars."You shouldn't be out here alone," he said, voice deep and strangely musical."Neither should you," Ameira replied, heart thudding.He smiled—a sad, haunting smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I don't have a choice."She didn’t understand then. But she would.