This audiobook is narrated by a digital voice.

Evangeline Blackwood clutched the ornate brass key in her trembling palm as she stood before the imposing iron gates of Ravenshollow Manor. The October wind whispered through the bare branches of ancient oak trees, carrying with it the scent of decaying leaves and something else—something that made her skin prickle with unease. The gothic mansion loomed against the storm-darkened sky, its countless windows like vacant eyes staring down at her with silent judgment.

She had never imagined inheriting anything from her great-aunt Cordelia, whom she had met only once as a child. The memory was hazy—a stern woman in black velvet who had spoken in riddles and smelled of lavender and old books. Now, at twenty-six, Evangeline found herself the sole heir to this crumbling estate on the moors of Northern England, along with all its secrets.

The solicitor's letter had been brief but intriguing. Along with the property, she had inherited what the document called "certain antiquities and curiosities housed within the manor's lower chambers." It was these mysterious items that had drawn her here from her cramped London flat, where she worked as a curator for a small museum specializing in medieval artifacts.

As she pushed open the heavy front door, its hinges groaned in protest, echoing through the vast foyer. Dust motes danced in the pale afternoon light that filtered through grimy stained-glass windows, casting colorful shadows across the black and white checkered floor. Portraits of long-dead Blackwoods gazed down from their gilded frames, their eyes seeming to follow her as she ventured deeper into the house.

The manor was a labyrinth of corridors lined with dark wood paneling and faded tapestries. Each room held the weight of centuries, filled with furniture draped in white sheets like ghosts of a more prosperous past. But it was the basement that called to her, just as the solicitor had said it would.