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The letter arrived on a Tuesday morning in October, carried by a postman who seemed unusually eager to be rid of it. Margaret Thornfield turned the yellowed envelope over in her hands, noting the elaborate wax seal that bore a crest she didn't recognize—a raven perched atop a crumbling tower. The return address was barely legible, written in spidery handwriting that spoke of advanced age: Whitmore & Associates, Solicitors, Ravenshollow, England.

Margaret had been living quietly in her Boston apartment for the past three years, working as a librarian at the city's historical society. At twenty-eight, she had grown accustomed to a life of predictable routines and scholarly pursuits. The death of her parents in a car accident had left her with few connections to the world beyond her books and research. She had no living relatives that she knew of, which made the letter all the more perplexing.

With trembling fingers, she broke the seal and unfolded the heavy parchment within.

Dear Miss Thornfield,

It is my solemn duty to inform you that you have been named the sole beneficiary in the last will and testament of one Cornelius Blackthorne, late of Greystone Manor, Ravenshollow. Mr. Blackthorne passed away on the fifteenth of September, and extensive research has confirmed you as his great-niece, the last surviving member of the Blackthorne bloodline.

The inheritance includes the entirety of Greystone Manor and its grounds, as well as all contents therein. I must advise you that the property has stood vacant for the past thirty years, following certain... unfortunate events. Nevertheless, it remains a substantial bequest, and I await your instructions regarding its disposition.

Should you wish to claim your inheritance, I shall be available to meet with you at your earliest convenience.

Yours faithfully, Edmund Whitmore, Esq.