Chapter 4
1177 Words
CHAPTER 4: The Blackthorn Manor
Ivy's POV
The mist was so thick that morning it felt like I could scoop it up with my hands and pack it into my suitcase.
I stood there on the narrow road, my shoes already damp, my fingers numb from gripping the handle of my bag too tight. I checked the address on my phone again, even though there was no signal and it wouldn’t magically change.
Blackthorn Manor.
If this was a prank, it was a very committed one.
That was when something moved inside the fog.
I stiffened.
A shape stepped forward, slow and careful, like the mist needed permission to let him through. A man appeared, tall but slouched, his coat hanging off him in a way that made him look permanently tired of life. He wore a hat pulled low, and when he reached me, he lifted it off his head slowly and peered at me like he was inspecting a strange insect.
“You Ivy Harrington?” he asked.
His voice was rough, like gravel that had learned how to talk.
“Yes,” I said quickly. “I’m Ivy Harrington. That’s me. In the flesh. Unfortunately cold. How do you know my name?”
He grunted. Just grunted. Then he jerked his head to the side.
“This way.”
“That’s it?” I asked. “No explanation? No welcome speech? No ‘hello, sorry for the murder-mist’?”
He had already turned around.
“I have a ride,” he said over his shoulder.
Against every survival instinct I owned, I followed him.
The mist swallowed us almost immediately. I stayed close, so close I could have reached out and poked his back. I didn’t, mostly because I wasn’t sure if he’d bite.
“Just so you know,” I said, “if you’re leading me into some forest to sacrifice me, I will scream. Loudly.”
He didn’t respond.
Figures.
We walked for maybe a minute. Maybe ten. Time felt weird in there. Then he stopped suddenly.
I didn’t.
I walked straight into him.
“Oof... sorry! You could’ve warned me,” I said, stumbling back.
I looked past him.
And my brain short-circuited.
There was a carriage.
An actual carriage.
Big wooden wheels. Black body. Two massive horses standing there, snorting softly, their breath fogging the air.
I stared at it.
Then I laughed.
“What the fuck.”
The man just looked at me.
“That’s… that’s a carriage,” I said slowly, pointing. “With horses.”
“Yes.”
“Like… old-timey horses?”
“They are horses.”
“Are we in the 1800s?” I asked. “Because I swear I left my corset at home.”
He didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. Just opened the carriage door.
That was when I noticed his clothes properly. The long coat. The cut of it. The buttons. Even the boots looked like something out of a history book.
I squinted at him. “Is this some kind of theme thing?”
“Get in,” he grumbled.
I hesitated. Then I sighed.
“I really need a job.”
I climbed in, nearly tripping because the step was higher than I expected. The inside smelled like leather and something old. The door shut with a solid thud, and suddenly I was enclosed.
The carriage jolted as the man climbed up front.
“Seatbelt?” I called out.
Nothing.
The horses moved, and the carriage rolled forward.
I pressed my face to the small window, trying to see where we were going, but the mist refused to cooperate. Everything outside was white and gray, like the world hadn’t finished loading yet.
“Okay,” I muttered to myself. “This is fine. Totally fine. People do this all the time. Get picked up by silent men in carriages to work at creepy manors.”
The ride felt long. The wheels creaked. The horses snorted. I bounced slightly with every movement.
“What the hell is wrong with this place?” I whispered.
Eventually, the carriage slowed. Then it stopped.
The door opened, and the man appeared again, holding out a hand.
I took it, because falling out of a carriage would have been a very embarrassing way to die.
I stepped down and turned to grab my suitcase.
“Leave it,” he said.
“What? No, I need that.”
“It will be taken care of.”
“Taken care of by who?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
I followed his gaze instead and my stomach dropped.
A huge black house loomed in front of me, rising out of the mist like it had been waiting. Tall windows. Sharp edges. Dark stone that looked like it had absorbed every bad mood in history.
“Oh,” I whispered. “So this is definitely Blackthorn Manor.”
The man tipped his hat once. I swallowed.
“Right,” I said. “Cool. Very welcoming vibe.”
I walked toward the front door, my steps slowing the closer I got. The place felt… heavy. Like it was watching me.
I raised my hand to knock.
The doors opened on their own and I jumped back.
“Jesus!”
They creaked wide, revealing a vast hall inside.
I stepped in cautiously.
“Hello?” I called. “Anyone home? Your tutor is here? Slightly traumatized but punctual?”
No answer.
The hall was huge. High ceilings. Dark wood. A staircase that split into two like something out of a gothic novel. My footsteps echoed too loudly.
“Great,” I muttered. “Abandoned murder house.”
Then I saw movement. A small shape, ducking behind a large piece of furniture.
I froze.
“Hey,” I said gently. “It’s okay. I’m not scary. I think.”
Silence.
I crouched slightly.
“Come on. Don’t be afraid.”
A few seconds passed. Then a little girl stepped out slowly.
She was small, maybe seven or eight. Pale skin. Dark hair pulled into messy braids. Big eyes that watched everything like she expected it to bite her. She clutched a stuffed wolf to her chest, worn and old. For a second, I swore its glassy eyes followed me. Probably just nerves.
“Hi,” I said softly. “I’m Ivy.”
She didn’t speak.
“You must be Mila,” I said, smiling. “I’m your tutor.”
Her fingers tightened around the toy.
“…Mila,” she whispered.
“Hi, Mila. That’s a nice wolf.”
She nodded but didn’t let go.
“Where’s your dad?” I asked gently.
She shrugged.
“Is he around?” I tried again.
Her eyes flicked past me and that was when I heard it.
A low growl.. not loud. Just enough amdthen a throat cleared.
I turned immediately. A man stood behind me. Tall, broad dark hair and sharp eyes fixed on me like he was deciding something very important.
Something inside me snapped into place and I gasped and nearly staggered…
- Writer
