Eternal Oath

England, 1891 The carriage didn't slow; it couldn't, not now that the storm had caught up with them. Mr. Adams cracked the whip, driving the horses faster through the night. Lightning tore across the night sky, its bright light exploding against the darkness of a moonless night. Thunder echoed close behind, loud and violent, rattling the carriage windows as rain lashed against the winding road beneath them. The innkeeper had warned them that morning that it would be best to wait a day or two before continuing. He spoke of other travelers who had recently passed through, relaying their reports about how the heavy rains were making the roads near impassable. Brenna had tried to reason with Mr. Adams, begging him to delay the final leg of their journey until the following morning, but Uncle Alister had paid the man too handsomely for him to turn back now. "Hold tight, Miss Davenport!" he shouted down from the driver's perch. "The road ahead looks like it's 'bout washed away!" Brenna gripped hold of the edge of her seat, her nails digging into the worn leather as the coach swayed violently from side to side while Mr. Adams maneuvered the team around another bend in the road. She never should have agreed to come; she knew her father wouldn't have approved of it at all, but what other choice did she have? He had been gone for three months now, vanishing into thin air without a trace, leaving Brenna with the awful uncertainty of not knowing if he was dead or alive. All they had ever found was his torn cloak deep in the woods and nothing more. Then the letter from Uncle Alister had arrived, ordering her immediate return home to Thorn Estate. As if she'd ever truly considered Thorn Manor to be her home. For as long as she could remember, her father had refused to speak about his childhood home, and any mention of it or Uncle Alister had always been met with silence. But as she grew older, she stopped asking about it. She had eventually realized that his memories of Thorn were tangled too deeply with her mother's death, and every question she asked only seemed to bring that grief rushing back into his eyes all over again. And now she was heading straight toward the very place he had spent years trying to keep her away from. Then she felt it. The sudden drop beneath the wheels. She tried to brace herself as the carriage lifted violently off the ground. The last thing she remembered was flying forward and hearing the sharp sound of splintering wood. Then nothing. She woke to the sting of cold rain hitting her face. Opening her eyes, she found her entire world spinning around her. For a moment, Brenna wasn't sure of much, including where she was or exactly what had happened. All she knew was that she was lying on her back and cold. She looked around, struggling to make sense of the chaos she was seeing. The carriage lay on its side nearby, torn and splintered apart. One wheel had been ripped completely free, landing near the side of the road, where it sat twisted awkwardly in the mud while shattered lantern glass glistened in the rain. The horses were gone. Only the broken harness straps remained, half-buried in the mud. A sharp ache spread through her chest. "Mister Adams?" No answer came. She forced herself up onto her feet, nearly slipping back down into the mud. Her dress clung to her body as the rain plastered strands of dark hair against her face and neck. Everything hurt. Her head. Her ribs. Even breathing was painful. "Mister Adams?" Brenna called weakly. "Where are you?" Still nothing. Fear tightened painfully in her chest. Stepping carefully over shattered wood and broken pieces of the carriage, she searched around the wreckage until she finally saw him lying near the side of the road. "Mister Adams," she whispered, rushing toward him. He lay on his back in the mud, staring blankly up at the storm-black sky. Rain pooled across his coat sleeves and soaked into his graying hair. He didn't move. Brenna slowed as she reached him. "Mister Adams?" Nothing. Her hands flew to her mouth as a tiny broken sound escaped her throat. "No..." Her chest tightened painfully as she stared down at him. Only moments ago, he had been shouting down to her from the driver's perch, fighting to keep the carriage steady through the storm. And now he was gone. For a moment, there was nothing except the sound of rain falling around them and the awful stillness of death. Then the sharp snap of a branch somewhere behind her shattered the silence. Brenna turned sharply, peering toward the tree line, trying to see where the sound had come from. At first, she saw nothing beyond the wreckage and pouring rain until another bolt of lightning split across the sky, illuminating the figure of a man standing just beyond the trees. Tall. Muscular. Broad-shouldered. Perfectly still. Watching her from beneath the shadows as though he were part of them. A cold shiver slowly crawled its way up Brenna's spine. Her breath caught painfully in her throat as he suddenly began moving toward her one slow step at a time, his movements measured and deliberate beneath the storm. Then, as if her prayers had somehow been answered, she heard voices echoing in the distance, breaking through the rain and darkness surrounding them. And they were calling her name. Another flash of lightning lit the road. And he was gone. Brenna stared into the trees, her heart hammering painfully against her ribs as fear slowly settled deep inside her chest. And for the very first time. She understood exactly why her father had feared this place.