Chapter 26: The Invitation

The house was never truly quiet. It breathed in the walls, sighed in the floorboards, whispered in the stillness between dusk and dawn. Elliot had learned to recognize the patterns the restless stirrings of Wintercroft Hall when it was waiting for something. Or someone.

Tonight, the air was heavy, humming with quiet anticipation. Elliot felt it in his bones before he even heard the sound. The slow creak of the front door. The house was waking up again.

He stood in the foyer, staring at the heavy doors, knowing what came next. It always started the same way. A hesitant knock. A moment of silence. Then the inevitable step over the threshold. The house never forced its guests inside. It didn’t need to. It called to them, and they always came.

Then, right on cue three sharp knocks.

Elliot exhaled slowly, steadying himself. He had been on the other side of that door once. Now, it was his turn to open it.

The candlelight flickered as he pulled the door open, revealing the newest arrival to Wintercroft Hall. Isla Grayson stood just beyond the threshold, her figure half-lit by the dim glow from inside. She was young, maybe in her early twenties, with dark eyes that flicked from Elliot to the mansion looming behind him. Her brown hair was tied back in a loose braid, and she clutched the strap of a leather bag slung across her chest. She looked uncertain, her weight shifting from foot to foot, as if she wasn’t sure whether to step forward or turn back.

She wouldn’t turn back. None of them ever did.

“Isla Grayson,” Elliot said, watching for her reaction.

Her brow furrowed. “How do you know my name?”

Elliot pulled an envelope from his pocket and held it up. Aged paper, sealed with wax, the Ashworth crest pressed into its surface. “The house told me.”

She blinked in confusion before letting out a short, nervous laugh. “Okay, that’s weird. Look, I got an invitation, but I thought this was, like, some kind of estate thing? An inheritance, maybe?” She gestured vaguely at the massive structure behind him. “I wasn’t expecting someone to already be here.”

“You weren’t expecting a lot of things,” Elliot said.

She frowned, her grip on her bag tightening. “So, what is this, then? Some kind of… private tour? A setup?”

“No,” Elliot said simply. “You came because you were invited. You stayed because something told you to. And now, you’re here because you’re meant to be.”

Isla scoffed. “Right. Super cryptic. That’s real reassuring.”

Elliot didn’t move from the doorway. “You can still leave, if you want.”

That made her pause. Her fingers twitched at her side. The wind picked up behind her, rustling the trees that lined the long driveway. She turned slightly, looking back toward the road she had come from. The road that led to the rest of the world.

For a long moment, Elliot thought she might actually walk away. But then she inhaled sharply, squared her shoulders, and stepped forward.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the door swung shut behind her with a heavy thud.

Isla jumped, spinning around. “Jesus” She turned back to Elliot. “Did you do that?”

“No,” Elliot said. “The house did.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it, clearly unsettled. Elliot knew how she felt. The first time he had arrived at Wintercroft Hall, he had stood in this exact spot, searching for a logical explanation. There wasn’t one. There never was.

He stepped past her, motioning for her to follow. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see.”

She hesitated but fell into step behind him.

The house seemed to adjust to her presence as they moved through the hallways. The air grew heavier, the shadows longer. Isla cast uneasy glances at the towering portraits lining the walls stoic figures in oil paint, their dark eyes watching her as she walked past.

“You live here?” she asked finally.

“I do now.”

“By yourself?”

Elliot nodded.

Isla shook her head, muttering, “That’s… really fucking weird.”

He almost smiled at that. “You’ll get used to it.”

They reached the sitting room, the warm glow of the fireplace casting flickering patterns on the walls. Isla hesitated before stepping inside, her eyes scanning the room. “Okay, so what exactly am I doing here?”

Elliot motioned toward the chair by the fire. “Sit down.”

She let out a frustrated sigh. “Are you going to stop being mysterious anytime soon?”

Elliot sat across from her. “Probably not.”

She muttered something under her breath but dropped into the chair, resting her bag in her lap. “Fine. Let’s start with the basics. Who the hell are you?”

“Elliot,” he said. “I was invited here, just like you. Now, I make sure people don’t get lost before the house decides what to do with them.”

Her brow furrowed. “The house decides?”

Elliot nodded.

She exhaled slowly, rubbing a hand over her face. “Right. Totally normal. Makes perfect sense.” She looked at him again, her expression more serious now. “So what is this place, really?”

Elliot studied her for a long moment. Then, in a calm, even voice, he said, “It’s a house that makes you remember things you’ve spent your whole life trying to forget.”

Something flickered in her expression. A slight stiffening of her shoulders. A moment’s hesitation before she spoke. “That’s… vague.”

“You’ll understand soon enough,” Elliot said.

Isla shook her head, letting out a short, humorless laugh. “Jesus. I should’ve just stayed home.”

“Then why didn’t you?” Elliot asked.

She froze.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The fire crackled softly in the silence. Isla looked away first, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag. She had no answer. Or maybe she had one, but she wasn’t ready to say it yet.

Elliot leaned back, watching her carefully. “You want answers? You’ll get them. But not all at once.”

Isla inhaled slowly. “So what now?”

“Now,” Elliot said, glancing at the shadows creeping along the walls, “we wait.”

Outside, the wind howled.

Wintercroft Hall had welcomed its newest guest.

And the house was already beginning its work.