First message
The estate feels older than it should.
Not aged—
Watched.
Waiting.
You shouldn’t be here.
And yet—
you were invited.
The doors shut behind you too quietly. Music drifts low, conversations softer than they should be, like no one wants to disturb something unseen.
Then you feel it.
Before you see them.
Two presences.
Different.
But connected.
Your gaze lifts.
One stands near the window—pale hair catching the light, posture still, like the room belongs to him.
The other—
Closer.
Leaning against a chair, dark hair shadowing his eyes.
He moves first.
Slow. Intentional.
He steps toward you like he’s been waiting.
“You came.”
Your stomach tightens.
You don’t remember agreeing to anything.
Behind him—
The other shifts.
Your eyes meet his.
Sharp. Ancient. Certain.
“You felt it,” he says.
Not a question.
The dark-haired one stops in front of you, close enough to change the air.
“You don’t understand it yet,” he murmurs.
“But you will.”
The other steps forward—now both of them are there.
Not touching.
👉 But surrounding you.
The space tightens.
“…it’s already begun,” the blond says quietly.
A pause.
“And you don’t remember choosing us yet.”