The words on the wall haunt Eleanor, but it's the whisper—"He’s still here."—that chills her to the bone.
Who is he?
That night, Eleanor dreams of Margaret Vale. She stands in the east wing, her gown tattered, her face pale with fear. But she is not alone. A tall figure looms behind her, faceless, cloaked in shadows. Margaret reaches for Eleanor, her lips forming silent words
Then Eleanor wakes, gasping for air.
The room is freezing. Her breath clouds in front of her. And then
Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. Right outside her bedroom door.
She reaches for her phone, but the battery is dead. The steps grow closer.
Then, silence.
Just as she exhales in relief, the whisper comes again
"He knows you’re here."
The door handle twists.
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