Episode 1

The rain had followed Luna Hayes all the way from the city. Sheets of water blurred the view outside the car window, smudging streetlights into streaks of yellow and white. The cab smelled faintly of damp fabric and cigarette smoke, and the driver hummed low to himself as if the storm outside was nothing unusual.

For Luna, it was more than the weather. It felt like the world itself was mourning alongside her.

She clutched the strap of her worn bag, knuckles white. In the seat beside her rested a small cardboard box—the last of her parents’ belongings that hadn’t been destroyed in the crash. Inside: a cracked photo frame, her mother’s old pendant, and her father’s wristwatch, stopped forever at 11:46 p.m.—the moment the world shattered.

The driver cleared his throat. “Hayes House, right?”

Luna blinked, dragging herself back into the present. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The cab turned down a narrow road lined with towering pines that swayed like dark sentinels. The deeper they went, the more the town seemed to vanish behind them. By the time the headlights caught the looming outline of the Hayes House, Luna’s stomach had already tightened into a knot.

The house was bigger than she remembered from her childhood visits. Gothic in its bones, with ivy crawling up its sides and windows like black, watching eyes. A place that carried both history and secrets.

Her aunt, Marjorie, was waiting on the porch with a lantern in hand. Her face, pale and round, lit up with relief as the car stopped.

“Oh, Luna!” she exclaimed the moment the girl stepped out. “You’re here. Safe and sound.”

Marjorie smelled of lavender and old books when she embraced her niece. For a moment, Luna let herself sink into the hug, craving warmth. But even then, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being observed.

And then she saw him.

Rick stood at the top of the steps, taller than she remembered, his broad shoulders framed against the storm. His dark hair clungs damply to his forehead, and his eyes—green, sharp, unblinking—locked on hers the way a hawk watches prey.

“Welcome home, Luna,” he said. His voice was deeper now, steadier, carrying a weight that unsettled her.

Luna managed a smile, small and fragile. “It’s… good to see you again, Rick.”

His lips twitched in what should have been a smile, but wasn’t. “It’s been too long.”

---

Inside, the house smelled of wood polish and faint smoke from the fireplace. Marjorie fussed with the kettle in the kitchen, leaving Luna and Rick alone in the wide, dimly lit living room.

“You’ve changed,” Rick said, his gaze lingering on her as though cataloging every detail.

“So have you,” Luna replied cautiously.

His eyes softened for a moment, though his stare never wavered. “You look… different. Grown.”

Luna shifted in her seat, uncomfortable under the weight of his words. She tried to remind herself: this was Rick, the boy who used to chase her through the garden, who once bandaged her knee when she fell. But the warmth she remembered seemed to have drained from him, replaced by something she couldn’t quite name.

“Things will be better now,” Rick said suddenly, almost fiercely. “You don’t have to worry anymore. I’ll take care of you.”

The words should have been comforting. Instead, they left her chilled.

---

Later that night, in her new bedroom, Luna unpacked the cardboard box, setting her mother’s pendant on the nightstand. The room was quiet except for the steady beat of rain against the window. She pulled the blanket around her shoulders, staring into the dark.

A faint sound made her freeze.

A floorboard creaked outside her door.

Her pulse quickened, her breath shallow. She told herself it was the house, old and restless. But then came the shadow beneath the door—long, unmoving. Someone was standing there.

Luna’s throat tightened. She waited. The shadow didn’t move for what felt like forever, and then, slowly, it retreated.

The silence returned.

But Luna knew she hadn’t imagined it. Someone had been there. Watching.

And she already knew who it was.

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