The world should have joined her in mourning.
Nature seemed to withhold all signs of mourning because the skies showed no moisture while the wind remained motionless.
Aurelia faced the black coffin as she stood in complete solitude with a delicate swing of her black veil across her face. The atmosphere surrounding her was thick without any sense of holiness — it crushed against her lungs. The atmosphere tightened around my throat to reduce my breathing into painful memories of what happened.
The funeral process had finished its duration one full hour ago. The guests had left through elegant black cars which cut into Aurelia's happiness with their disdainful looks. None of them knew the truth. The people present failed to witness whatever she witnessed.
Liora kept requesting for her return to the house. Aurelia did not fault her sister for her trembling and frightened voice rather than showing grief. The funeral service brought forth too much gloom because people possessed it rather than clouds in the sky. Especially Miranda, the stepmother. And Ivy, her daughter. Twin shadows devoted themselves to stole an inheritance they failed to win.
Aurelia lowered her eyes toward the wooden coffin in front of her.
Her father's coffin.
The casket lay sealed by brass and velvet while showing the family sign which she used to run her finger across during her childhood days yet thinking it symbolized noble qualities. The title of heiress which people repeatedly used during the funeral service now seemed empty because the insignia it bore no longer held any substance.
"The heiress."
The heiress status should have been her birthright yet Miranda showed a grin during will reading procedures.
Whenever Ivy believed herself unnoticed she gripped the house keys tightly with with her fingers.
The stillness of the air caused Aurelia to breathe fog that misted in front of her face. She approached the coffin while her boots produced little hollow sounds over the dead leaves that lingered from the cemetery pathway. The smooth coffin lid received a soft touch from her hand while her fingers shook uncontrollably.
"Daddy," she whispered. "What did you do?"
It wasn't just that he died.
It was how he died.
A sudden fall. A fractured neck. No witnesses. A closed casket, despite his body being "untouched."
That was the first lie.
The medical examiner failed to see the throat marks from the bruising so she noticed the bruises herself.
She had noticed the small ritual-like markings that were hidden under his collarbone skin which resembled a branding pattern. Any questions about the scars received no proper answers. "Old scars," they said.
The medical records confirmed Gregory Vance never received previous wounds. The vanity of Gregory Vance led him to get the marks surgically removed.
"Are you really in there?" she murmured now, the thought creeping like frost into her skull. "Or did they bury something else?"
A dry twigsaked behind her.
She turned quickly to check the hedges which bordered the Vance mausoleum garden. Nothing moved. The sensation was clear to her: there was something observing nearby. Something unseen but not absent.
The eyesores should have become familiar to her.
Throughout the past weeks she experienced a persistent feeling of something breathing at the edges of her vision behind her shoulder. The reflections showed nonexistent locations through the surface of the mirror. Her dreams always concluded with the echoing voice of a distant wolf.
All since the night he died.
Her hand transformed into a clenched fist. The sealed envelope which her father had left appeared from her coat pocket. She hadn't opened it yet. Couldn't. A strong energy surged through the envelope that caused her fingertips to tingle.
Unlike typical correspondences this message lacked any identification.
Just one word.
"Veil."
The name of the house. A traditional family estate exists hidden beyond iron fencing and tall pine trees.
"Veil Manor," her father once said, "has secrets older than our bloodline. Several entrances in the world should remain permanently closed.
She never believed him. Until the doors started whispering.
The wind moved through the edges of her flowing dress. This time, she didn't turn.
She had complete certainty that the object behind her remained invisible.
Funeral flowers within the manor transformed into a strong unpleasant odor.
Liora sat in the parlor waiting on the loveseat with her unregulated dark curls and glassy eyes. She appeared three years younger than her sibling though her sorrow ran far beyond what people acknowledged.
"You stayed out there too long," she said without looking up. "Miranda's asking questions."
After entering the house Aurelia moved to close the door. "Let her."
Liora looked between her sister and the envelope that she held in her hands. "You didn't open it."
"I will. When I'm ready."
Liora bit her lip. "I heard Ivy laughing. Right after the service. In your mind do you believe she holds a secret knowledge?
"She knows a lot more than she should." Across from Aurelia sat as she sank into the chair. "Ivy's always been Miranda's shadow. Miranda has maintained liarship as her natural characteristic.
"But the will—"
"Was altered. I know it." Her voice dropped. According to Dad he modify the will six weeks prior to this present moment. The attempt by the young lady to have him admitted in a psychiatric facility followed his will change.
Liora's eyes widened. "He did?"
According to him he removed her from his will. According to him she saw herself exactly as she is.
"Then why… why would the will still name her executor?"
"I don't know. But I'll find out."
Silence fell again. Heavy. Cracking at the edges.
A slight howl blew between the chimney while outside wind continued its presence. The wind brought distorted voices from the chimney which shouldn't have heard such secrets.
With her arms Liora wrapped her legs tightly into her body. The tale from the beginning of Vance's history always captured your attention. About the first Vance?"
Aurelia nodded slowly. His story described Vance as not completely human because an animal-blooded female had stolen the land by force. She emerged from the forest with her silver fur covering her body and used blood to mark this territory as hers.
"I thought he was just trying to scare us."
Aurelia stared into the flames. "He wasn't."
Sleep arrived unexpectedly during that night and departed abruptly.
Aurelia woke abruptly from her rest when the night growls faded away in her dream. Sweat from her exertion made her shirt wet while the sheets around her legs remained knotted. She sat up slowly, listening.
Something had woken her.
Something inside the house.
Not Liora. Not the staff.
Something older.
She walked to the door with feet untouched by shoes while touching the cold surface with her fingers. The dim hallway remained without light because the wall sconces remained dark. The stained-glass panes let in only dim moonlight which formed peculiar shapes on the floor.
She stepped into the corridor.
The threshold connecting the study to the hall remained opened.
Her breath caught.
He always locked that door. Always.
Fearing and trembling she walked forward with slowness and silence. The surrounding atmosphere differed from elsewhere as memory and dark power seemed to radiate from the place. She used her hand to gently push the door toward her.
The room was empty.
But the fire was burning.
Something new appeared on the desk which stood there before everything else:
A single white lily.
The leather blotter had dust on it while the claws from some unknown creature left gashes in its surface. Five of them. Deep. Fresh.
A creature appeared seconds ago precisely at the spot where she was standing to inflict deep wounds in the wooden surface.
She heard her father remind her of something in her thoughts.
My last advice is that you should not trust the house if anything bad happens to me.
Her breath quickened while she turned her body and the envelope in her pocket became scorching against her flesh.
Whatever was happening... it had already begun