Dawson
The sense of déjà vu was not going away. In fact, as we loped through the trees, approaching the cliffs and the old house, the feeling that I had been here before only got stronger. But I was fairly certain I had never come here. I had not spent much time in Nightfall growing up. My father had solidified our alliance when I was a boy, just after he learned his sister-in-law was Morson’s fated mate. I didn’t think I would have come here on any of our trips down to see my aunt and uncle. I reminded myself to ask after we shifted back.
The house was clearly a beautiful manor once. It was slightly falling apart, the paint faded, buffed away by the years of ocean winds, but still impressive. There was a haunting silence as we approached, akin to walking thro
