One of my eyes throbbed so violently, I could barely see. The pain struck so suddenly, I let my hand slip—and the plate I was holding shattered on the floor, its golden edges glinting like fractured light.
Tomorrow, I was turning sixteen. Maybe that was why I was so on edge. Not because I feared getting older—no, it was something else entirely. Sixteen meant I would officially sever ties with House Eboncrest… or at least, with what remained of it.
I wasn't one of them, of course. The blood of Eboncrest didn't run through me. But the manor still bore their name, even if the family had vanished three years ago after the incident.
That's all anyone ever called it: the incident. I'd never been told the details—only that the second son had done something so awful, the entire family fled overnight, leaving him behind to suffer alone within the crumbling manor. Since then, none of us dared enter the estate itself. Not even out of curiosity. Not until last night.
From the servant quarters where I lived, I could just see the windows on the manor's second floor. I always thought they'd glow with candlelight on sleepless nights—but they never did. That was part of what made the place so eerie.
But curiosity—it always had a way of dragging me into trouble.
Last night, I crept to the edge of the overgrown garden, holding up a lantern toward one of the second-story windows. And there—behind the glass—I saw him. A figure, watching me from the dark.
I gasped, falling backward onto the cold, wet grass. My heart pounded in my ears. I wasn't sure if I had really seen him—or if the shadow had tricked me—but I could've sworn I heard something: a low growl. Almost beast-like. Just like the maids whispered in hushed tones.
Lord Caelvorn. That was his name. Or at least, I thought it was.
Before I could even stammer an apology for my intrusion, the window creaked open. A book—of all things—came flying at me and struck my left eye with such force I thought I might go blind. The pain was immediate and brutal.
Nobles. Heartless, cruel, and dramatic as ever.
Covering my eye with one hand, I peeked back up at the window, but the figure was gone. Only the shadows remained. I retrieved my lantern, trembling, and hurried back toward the servant quarters—though every step felt like he was following me, watching from above. Who else would be awake at such an hour?
Then again, who was I to talk? My own curiosity had dragged me out at midnight, and now my face—and pride—were both throbbing.
And now here I was, the next morning, on my knees picking up the shards of a shattered, gold-decorated plate, still half-blind and fuming with pain.
This plate would cost a fortune to replace.
In this manor, that kind of mistake meant punishment—usually the sort of task so dreadful no other butler or maid dared to accept it. My fingers trembled as I picked up each piece, knowing full well that today, of all days—the day before my sixteenth birthday—I had gotten myself into deep trouble.
I cursed under my breath, though the words were barely harsh. I'd only learned them from listening to the older maids mutter during late-night chores or while groaning about their miserable pay.
My "aunt," as I was told to call her, had taken me in after finding me as a baby near one of the village roads. She left me here at the manor to work—claimed it was better than dying before I even opened my eyes. Then, when I turned seven, she disappeared without a word. I hadn't seen her since.
I hated her for that. She made me smile once—and then vanished. Now all I had left was repetition: waking, cleaning, serving, surviving.
"Fussing over broken dishes, little girl?"
I flinched and looked up. Rael, one of the butlers, knelt beside me, his white gloves spotless despite the golden shards around us.
"I wonder what punishment I'll get for this," I muttered, scowling.
He offered a tired sigh. "I hear we're in desperate need of a caretaker for the Lord.
My eyebrows rose. "You mean… him? The one all the maids talk about?"
Rael nodded grimly. "It's getting harder every day. No one can enter his chambers without getting shouted at. Or worse."
I stiffened. "Where are you going with this?"
"I'm saying… maybe instead of hiring someone new, we use someone who's already working here."
That made my stomach twist. It made sense—but it also sounded terrifying.
I stood up, brushing off my apron. As I wrapped the gold shards in a cloth (I planned to keep them, perhaps sell them someday if I dared), Rael raised a brow.
"What are you doing with those?"
"What else am I supposed to do?" I replied, giving him my most innocent look.
He wasn't fooled. "Eva, don't steal. For god's sake, try to be a proper lady."
A proper lady? That wasn't on any list of mine.
"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, returning to the sink to wash the remaining plates.
Such a waste—golden plates used by no one but a lonely noble. "Why are there so many dishes? And why do they still have food on them?"
"They're from Lord Caelvorn. He hardly eats. Sometimes not even a bite."
He was mad. That was the only explanation. He had meals fit for royalty and didn't touch them, while I scraped the scraps into the bin and barely ate enough to sleep.
"I'm starting to think someone needs to teach that spoiled noble how to act like a human being," I said, scouring a plate.
"I don't recommend it," Rael replied, munching on an apple.
"Maybe he just needs some guidance."
"It's not that simple, Eva." His voice turned serious. "You speak before you put yourself in someone else's shoes. That man's been through hell. And no—I'm not telling you why."
Secrets. I hated them.
"It's late," he said, standing. "Finish up and go to bed. We'll talk about your punishment tomorrow."
I didn't argue. I finished drying the plates, hung up my apron, and blew out the kitchen candles one by one. The manor dimmed behind me as I locked the doors and made my way toward my room, tucked away near the edge of the property.
Usually, on nights like this, I'd hear him again—those strange, pained noises echoing from the manor's upper floor.
Tonight was no different.
I stopped walking, heart tight. I heard it again—that sound, like someone hurting or being hurt. It sent a chill up my spine.
"Hey!" I shouted before I could stop myself.
The noise stopped.
I froze.
A moment later, I saw movement. The figure approached the window again, barely visible, and my fingers tightened around the lantern. Slowly, I lifted it—just enough to catch a glimpse.
Blue eyes.
That was all I saw. A piercing, inhuman shade of blue staring straight through me.
"I-I'm just a servant—"
"Go away," he said. Quiet. Low. Like a growl.
I turned and ran without another word.
Each step back to my room felt like he might appear behind me at any moment. When I finally reached the door, I slammed it shut, heart pounding. I collapsed onto my bed with a groan, still clutching the side of my face.
Today, I was fifteen.
When I woke up, I would be sixteen.
It wasn't the birthday that worried me.
It was everything that came after.