Leona’s POV
The mansion seemed colder at night. The walls, with their ornate carvings and antique decor, felt more like barriers than protection. Every step I took echoed faintly, swallowed by the vast emptiness around me. The silence wasn’t soothing—it was oppressive, pressing down like a weight I couldn’t shake.
I tried to retrace my path through the hallways, but it was useless. Every corridor looked identical, lined with the same patterned wallpaper, the same dimly glowing sconces, the same shadows that seemed to stretch and move as I passed. It was as though the house itself was alive, watching, waiting for me to slip up.
Zane’s words replayed in my mind, unrelenting in their simplicity. You have potential, but potential means nothing if you’re not willing to use it.
Potential. It
