Chapter One – A Stranger with Familiar Eyes
One Year Later
The first snow of the season fell on the cliffs that hugged Ashmoor House.
Ashmoor House was no longer afraid.
Kids giggled as they explored the gardens on tour. Researchers took extensive notes on every inch of the interior and tourists traveled from all over the country to listen to tales of the "Scariest House That Isn't."
Ashmoor House was settled history.
Ashmoor House…
Rowan stepped inside just past dawn. She carried a bouquet of fresh white camellias to the music room.
Each Friday, she left fresh flowers for Elias underneath his portrait.
It had become her tradition.
Her promise to him.
As Rowan arranged the blooms, she heard the grandfather clock in the foyer strike nine.
There was a loud rap at the front door.
She frowned.
Ashmoor wasn’t open to visitors until noon.
The housekeeper walked across the foyer and yanked open the heavy front doors.
A tall young man waited on the front steps.
He was probably nineteen or twenty.
His dark brown hair fell just above his forehead.
Storm gray eyes locked onto hers.
Warm eyes.
Kind eyes…
She knew those eyes so well.
The man straightened himself awkwardly.
“I’m sorry,” He smiled, but his cheeks were pink with embarrassment. “I know you guys aren’t open until noon or whatever.”
Rowan sucked in a sharp breath.
It wasn’t because his voice was eerily similar to Elias’s.
It was because it held the same soothing warmth.
The same reserved kindness…
The stranger quickly looked past Rowan out toward Ashmoor House.
“This is going to sound weird…” He began.
“I’ve dreamed about this place for months,” Rowan replied quickly.
His heart leapt into his throat.
“What kind of dreams?” She leaned against the door frame, studying his reaction.
He swallowed heavily.
“Um… An old piano I used to play?” He shrugged.
“A bell tower…”
“A girl in a white dress…” He tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.
“My boss keeps calling me…” Rowan licked her dry lips.
The man chewed on his bottom lip.
“Elias.”
Nothing else needed to be said.
Rowan marched past him back into the house, not caring that he was standing directly in her path.
The blonde nearly sprinted down the grand staircase and into the music room.
“s**t!”
The man yelped as Rowan knocked into him.
His hand clamped onto her arm.
“You okay?” He asked, concerned.
Rowan hiccupped for air.
“You’re him…”
The boy nodded, face puzzled.
“I’m Rowan.” She reached out and grasped his hand.
“I’m Callum.” He smiled, pointing at her wrist. “Wait, how’d you know?”
Her heart plummeted.
“How’d you know?”
Rowan held onto his hand tightly.
Callum noticed her pale complexion and took a few steps backwards.
“What?”
“I…” Rowan licked her dry lips. “You found the pendant, didn’t you?”
“What pendant?”
“The silver raven…” She gestured around his neck.
Callum’s fingers dug into her skin.
“You have one, too?” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“It should be impossible…” Rowan squeezed his hand.
Callum stared down at the necklace.
“Oh, this?” Callum laughed nervously.
“I found it on the beach yesterday. When I was near here.” He glanced at Rowan.
“I don’t know why, but I knew it was mine.” He beamed gratefully at her response.
Below Ashmoor House…
The Heart of Ashmoor pulsed softly.
Alive.
The silver roots that grew beneath the sprawling estate lit up.
Warm.
Not screaming in warning.
But knowing.
Not every story has an ending.
Some are just waiting for you to continue them.
