𝒫𝑒𝓇𝑒𝓃𝓃𝑒

Chapter 1

Eleanor Aetos had been just ten years old when death first knocked on the door of her life. It came quietly, slipping through the shadows of a cold winter night, taking her father away as he slept. There had been no time for goodbyes, no final words exchanged. One moment, he was there, his warm presence a constant in her small world; the next, he was gone, leaving a void too large for her young heart to comprehend.

Her mother had tried to fill that void, surrounding Eleanor with all the love she had. Their days had been filled with stories and songs, the warm scent of bread baking in the oven, and the gentle hum of a life that felt, if not whole, at least safe. But safety, Eleanor soon learned, was as fragile as the first frost of autumn. Two years later, her mother, too, was taken from her, this time after a long illness that left her frail and unrecognizable from the woman she had once been.

In those final days, Eleanor had sat by her mother's bedside, trying to remember what it felt like to have a family. She had clung to the fading memories of laughter, of hands held tight, of stories whispered at night. But when her mother's hand grew cold and her breaths ceased, those memories seemed to slip through her fingers like sand.

Eleanor was twelve when she found herself standing at the edge of a grave, watching as the earth covered her mother, the last piece of the life she had known. The adults around her had murmured their condolences, but their words felt distant, hollow, like echoes in a vast, empty cavern.

Her aunt, Theodora, had arrived at the funeral like a storm—a whirlwind of black silk and sharp words. She was a woman of few sentiments, her face always set in a mask of stern resolve. Eleanor had barely known her, meeting her only once or twice during brief, uncomfortable visits. But now, without hesitation, Theodora had taken her by the hand and declared her intentions clear: Eleanor would live with her, far from the town she had known, far from everything that remained of her parents.

There had been no discussion, no debate. Within hours, Eleanor was whisked away, leaving behind the house that still echoed with her mother's voice, the familiar streets where she had once played, and the life she had tried to cling to. The journey to her aunt's estate was long and silent, the road winding through dark forests and over hills that seemed to lead to nowhere.

Eleanor had peered out of the carriage window, watching as the trees thickened, their branches intertwining like the fingers of giants above her. The landscape grew more desolate with every passing mile, and the sky, once a dull gray, darkened into a foreboding black. The pines whispered secrets to each other, and Eleanor imagined they spoke of her—of the girl who had lost everything, now heading toward a future she couldn't begin to fathom.

As the carriage approached the towering gates of her aunt's estate, Eleanor had taken a deep breath, steeling herself for whatever awaited her on the other side. She was no longer a child, not really. The loss had stripped her of that. But she was still young enough to feel the weight of the unknown pressing down on her, a heavy cloak of uncertainty and fear.

Now, at nineteen, Eleanor found herself reflecting on that day often, the memory as vivid as if it had just happened. She had lived a sheltered life since then, Theodora's watchful eye always ensuring she stayed within the confines of the estate unless it was to and from college, which her aunt had reluctantly allowed her to attend last year.

Eleanor returned home from college that day, her thoughts occupied with the usual mundane worries. She had taken the familiar path through the dense woods that bordered her aunt's estate, her footsteps quickening as the towering iron gates came into view. The air was crisp, the sun hanging low in the sky, casting long shadows across the driveway.

As she pushed open the front door, an unusual stillness greeted her. The house, normally so full of her aunt's commanding presence, felt oddly empty as if something vital had been drained from it. Eleanor called out for her aunt, her voice echoing unanswered through the grand, silent halls.