That Night

Chapter one

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Chapter 1: The Invitation

Mia never expected to be invited to the most exclusive party of the year. In fact, she hadn’t even known about it until the invitation appeared on her phone, an anonymous message that read:

“Come to Ravenwood Manor. Midnight. Don’t be late.”

There was no sender ID, no follow-up details—just those few ominous words. At first, she thought it was a prank. Who would invite her, of all people, to a party at Ravenwood Manor?

The mansion had been abandoned for years, a looming structure on the outskirts of town. It was more legend than reality now, the subject of whispered conversations and urban myths. Some claimed it had once belonged to a wealthy recluse who disappeared under mysterious circumstances. Others insisted it was haunted, cursed by the spirits of those who had died there.

Mia had heard the rumors since childhood, but she’d never dared to go near the place. Not even on dares from her friends.

And yet, as she stared at the message, a strange thrill ran through her.

She knew she should ignore it. Delete it and forget.

But something about the words “Don’t be late” felt like a challenge.

The Decision

That night, as she sat in her dimly lit apartment, she found herself unable to focus on anything else. The invitation lingered in the back of her mind like a whisper, urging her to take the risk.

She wasn’t the type to go to exclusive parties. In fact, she was barely the type to go to parties at all. Since moving to this town for college, she had spent most of her time alone, keeping to herself. But something about this felt different.

What if it was real?

What if she was finally being invited into something bigger than herself—an exclusive event where only a select few were chosen?

And besides, who would say no to a night at Ravenwood Manor?

The thought sent a shiver down her spine, half fear, half excitement.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she typed a reply:

“Who is this?”

No response.

A minute passed. Then five. Then ten.

Nothing.

Maybe she really was being pranked.

Still, she found herself checking the time. 11:15 PM. If she wanted to go, she’d have to leave soon.

Mia hesitated a moment longer. Then, almost on impulse, she stood up and walked to her closet. If she was going, she needed to dress the part.

Getting Ready

She slipped into a sleek black dress, simple but elegant. Not too formal, not too casual. She tied her hair back in a loose bun and added a touch of red lipstick—something bold, something different.

Her reflection in the mirror felt almost foreign.

Was this really her?

She glanced at the clock again. 11:35 PM.

The air outside was crisp as she stepped into her car. The streets were eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made the world feel empty. As she drove, the town lights faded behind her, replaced by thick woods and winding roads.

The drive to Ravenwood Manor was longer than she expected. The road twisted like a serpent through the dense trees, the headlights barely cutting through the darkness.

She checked her phone. No signal.

A sense of unease crawled up her spine. She shook it off.

This was just a party. Just an adventure.

Right?

Arriving at Ravenwood Manor

At 11:57 PM, Mia saw the first sign of life—a row of expensive cars parked outside an enormous iron gate. The manor loomed beyond it, a dark silhouette against the night sky.

She pulled up and parked behind a sleek black sedan.

Taking a deep breath, she stepped out.

The night air was thick, almost suffocating. A single lantern flickered near the gate, casting long shadows across the gravel driveway.

The mansion itself was massive—three stories of gothic architecture, with tall windows that reflected nothing but darkness. The walls were draped in ivy, and the grand double doors stood slightly ajar, as if waiting for her.

She hesitated at the entrance.

Something about the place felt… wrong.

It wasn’t just the isolation, or the eerie silence. It was the way the house seemed to watch her.

Still, she had come this far.

Taking one last breath, she stepped inside.

And the doors swung shut behind her.

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Chapter 2: The Arrival

Dressed in black, Mia drove through the dense fog, the road winding like a serpent through the hills. The trees loomed on either side of the narrow path, their twisted branches clawing at the sky. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel as the silhouette of Ravenwood Manor emerged from the gloom.

A sprawling Gothic estate, its towering spires disappeared into the mist. The windows, dark and lifeless, watched her approach like vacant eyes. As she pulled up to the circular driveway, the gravel crunched beneath her tires. Several cars were already parked outside—sleek sedans and vintage vehicles, their polished surfaces slick with condensation. A gathering, but no signs of movement.

Mia hesitated before stepping out. The air was unnaturally still, carrying only the faint rustling of leaves. The house loomed over her, its grandeur swallowed by an unsettling silence. Clutching her coat tighter around her shoulders, she ascended the stone steps, her heels clicking against the damp surface.

The heavy wooden doors groaned as she pushed them open. A chill swept over her as she crossed the threshold into the grand hall. The space was dimly lit by a single chandelier, its crystal arms refracting ghostly light. Shadows pooled in the corners, shifting with every flicker of the candle flames.

The scent of aged wood, dust, and something faintly metallic lingered in the air. She stepped forward cautiously, her heels muffled by the thick Persian rug beneath her. The silence was deceptive—there was something here, something unseen.

Then, the whispers.

They slithered through the air, indistinct yet persistent, like echoes of a conversation just out of reach. Mia stiffened, glancing around. The hall was empty, save for the grand staircase leading to the upper floors. Ornate portraits lined the walls, their painted eyes seeming to follow her every move.

A gust of wind swept through the hall, though the doors had closed behind her. The candles flickered violently, casting long, shifting shadows.

Mia exhaled slowly. Get a grip, she told herself.

She had come to Ravenwood Manor at the behest of her late aunt, Eleanor Ravensdale. The funeral had been just days ago, a somber affair attended by distant relatives and business associates. Eleanor had been a woman of influence, her wealth and secrets vast. And now, those secrets were calling Mia here.

A throat cleared behind her. Mia turned sharply.

A tall man stood at the base of the staircase, his presence as still and commanding as a marble statue. Dressed in a dark three-piece suit, he regarded her with an unreadable expression.

"You must be Mia," he said, his voice smooth but distant.

She nodded, her pulse steadying. "And you are?"

"Edgar Whitmore. The estate’s caretaker." His gaze flicked toward the doors, as if expecting someone else to arrive. "You are early."

Mia arched an eyebrow. "Was I supposed to be late?"

He didn’t smile. "The others have already gathered in the drawing room. Follow me."

He turned on his heel, moving with an air of practiced formality. Mia hesitated for only a moment before trailing after him. Their footsteps echoed down the corridor, past looming suits of armor and arched doorways leading into darkened rooms.

The whispers followed.

Mia kept her gaze forward, though her skin prickled with the sensation of being watched.

They reached the drawing room. Edgar pushed the door open, revealing a dimly lit chamber lined with towering bookshelves. A fire crackled in the massive stone hearth, casting flickering patterns against the mahogany-paneled walls.

A group of people sat in antique armchairs and leather sofas, their conversations halting as Mia entered.

"Ah, the prodigal niece arrives," a voice drawled.

Mia turned her attention to the speaker—a woman with sharp features and piercing green eyes. Helena Ravensdale. Mia's cousin.

"Helena," Mia greeted coolly.

"Glad you could join us," Helena said, though her tone suggested otherwise.

Mia’s gaze swept the room, taking in the rest of the attendees. Her uncle, Reginald Ravensdale, sat stiffly in an armchair, his fingers wrapped around a crystal tumbler of whiskey. Beside him was Arthur Langley, the family lawyer, a thin man whose spectacles gleamed in the firelight.

Then there was Isla Moreau, Eleanor’s closest confidante, draped in an emerald velvet gown. She held a delicate teacup, her long fingers adorned with rings.

And finally, a man Mia didn’t recognize. He stood apart from the others, near the bookshelf, watching her with dark, unreadable eyes. His presence was an enigma.

"Now that we're all here," Arthur Langley said, clearing his throat, "shall we proceed?"

Mia took a seat, her pulse quickening.

"Proceed with what, exactly?" she asked.

Arthur exchanged a glance with Reginald before answering.

"Your aunt’s final instructions. You were all summoned here for a reason."

The fire crackled louder. The whispers seemed to seep through the walls.

Mia folded her arms. "Then let’s not waste time."

Arthur set his briefcase on the table and clicked it open. He retrieved a stack of aged documents and placed them before him.

"Eleanor Ravensdale was a woman of many secrets," he began, adjusting his glasses. "And her last will and testament is… unconventional."

A beat of silence passed. Then Reginald scoffed.

"Of course it is."

Arthur ignored him. "Each of you has been named in the will. But before her estate can be divided, Eleanor has requested one final task."

Helena sighed dramatically. "And what would that be?"

Arthur’s gaze darkened. "She has left behind a mystery. One that must be solved before any of you can claim your inheritance."

Mia’s stomach tightened. A mystery?

Isla set down her teacup. "What kind of mystery?"

Arthur hesitated, as if weighing his words.

"A hidden truth," he finally said. "Buried within this house."

The fire sputtered, sending a shower of embers into the air.

The wind howled outside.

And the whispers grew louder.

Chapter 3: The Masked Strangers

Inside the grand ballroom, a dozen guests moved like specters, their elegant attire shrouded in an air of mystery. Each one wore an elaborate mask, concealing their identities behind porcelain, feathers, and metallic embellishments. Candles flickered in the massive chandeliers above, casting shifting patterns of gold and shadow across the polished marble floors.

Mia took a hesitant step forward. The air was thick with the scent of aged wine and something faintly floral, but beneath it lurked an undertone of something she couldn't place—something cold and metallic, like steel or blood.

The guests spoke in hushed tones, their conversations weaving through the room like murmured secrets. Their laughter, when it came, was soft and fleeting, as if anything louder might shatter the fragile illusion they had built.

A man in a silver fox mask emerged from the crowd, moving toward Mia with an effortless grace. He was dressed in a black suit, his posture impeccable, his presence both alluring and unsettling. Without a word, he extended a crystal glass filled with deep red wine.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice smooth, practiced.

Mia hesitated before accepting the drink. The glass was chilled, beads of condensation forming against her fingers. She met the fox-masked man’s gaze—though his eyes were hidden behind the mask, she could feel them studying her.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her stomach.

"A friend," he replied vaguely. "Or perhaps just another player in the game."

Before she could press him for more, a loud chime echoed through the hall.

Midnight had struck.

The conversations around her ceased. The guests turned, almost in unison, toward the grand staircase. Mia followed their gaze.

At the top of the stairs stood a figure draped in an obsidian cloak, their face hidden behind an ornate gold mask. Their presence was commanding, unnatural. The mask gleamed under the candlelight, a hollow expression frozen in gold.

"Welcome to Ravenwood," the figure spoke, their voice distorted as if coming from somewhere distant. "You have all been chosen to witness the unveiling of Eleanor Ravensdale’s final secret. But be warned—truths once uncovered cannot be buried again."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. Some guests exchanged glances, their masked faces unreadable.

The figure raised a gloved hand, and a pair of servants—dressed in dark livery, their faces eerily expressionless—stepped forward, carrying a large, velvet-draped object between them.

Mia’s pulse quickened.

The servants placed the object at the foot of the staircase and pulled the velvet cloth away.

A mirror.

Or at least, something that resembled one. Its frame was carved from dark wood, twisted into shapes that resembled writhing figures. The glass itself was smoky, its surface rippling as though it were not solid at all.

A hush fell over the room.

The figure in the gold mask descended the staircase with slow, deliberate steps.

"This mirror," they said, "is more than it appears. It is the key to what Eleanor left behind."

Mia felt her breath catch.

A low whisper slithered through the air, though no one had spoken. The room seemed to darken, shadows stretching unnaturally toward the mirror.

Mia’s grip tightened on her glass.

The masked figure turned their gaze toward her. Though their face was hidden, she felt as if they were staring directly into her soul.

"You, Mia Ravensdale, have been summoned here for a reason," they said. "The answers you seek lie beyond the veil."

Mia’s throat went dry.

Beyond the veil?

Something in the mirror shifted. For the briefest moment, she thought she saw something staring back at her—something not human.

The masked guests stood silent, waiting. Watching.

Mia exhaled, steadying herself.

She had come to Ravenwood Manor expecting secrets.

She hadn't expected the secrets to be staring back at her.