Chapter Text
The Victorian Gothic Revival country house deep in The Cotswolds stood like a monument to forgotten grandeur, at once magnificent and foreboding in its silent majesty.
Frost Manor rose four stories into the grey English sky, its dark stone facade weathered by decades of rain and wind, fronted by endless fields of golden wheat that rippled like an ocean in the breeze. Behind the sprawling estate, a dense forest of ancient oaks and elms pressed close to the mansion's rear walls, their swaying branches seeming to reach toward the building with gnarled fingers.
For many years, the manor had stood as a testament to architectural ambition, its Gothic spires and ornate stonework speaking of wealth and refinement. But now, with its reclusive owner recently deceased, the house sat empty and watchful, its countless windows staring out like unseeing eyes across the countryside.
The locals whispered among themselves and to the occasional tourist who wandered through their village.
Stay far away from Frost Manor, they warned.
The place was cursed, haunted, and possibly touched by something unnatural.
Late at night, drivers on the winding country road would glimpse a single window on the fourth floor, glowing with what appeared to be the warm light of an oil lantern. Others claimed to have seen a tall man in strange clothing wandering the grounds in the moonlight, appearing and vanishing like mist.
But the consensus was clear among the townsfolk:
There was something deeply wrong with Frost Manor, and any soul foolish enough to venture there would do well to turn back before it was too late.