I threw back the covers and ran downstairs, searching for the light switch. The lights in the inn were bright after the darkness of my dream.

I ran through the quiet corridors of the inn and out into the garden. I instinctively ran out there. The scream, whilst loud, was distant, so it couldn't be one of my guests.

The night air hit me, cool and refreshing me. The moon was high in the sky, casting a silver light over the grounds of the Willow Grove Inn. Every leaf and petal look otherworldly, and I was struck by how peaceful it was and the incongruent racing of my heartbeat.

I heard the scream again, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand up. As my brain processed the sound, I felt foolish. I knew that sound, foxes mating. Out here, in the open air, the sound was louder. I searched the garden, looking for them in the shadows and under bushes.

I followed the sound to the old oak tree, where I found a single fox. Its mate must have disappeared into the moonlit grass.

I settled myself at the base of the tree. I could feel the age and wisdom that came from centuries of life seeping from the tree. As I sat there, I noticed a pair of yellow eyes peering at me from the shadows. A black cat emerged, stopped and took in my scent before its tail went straight into the air and it sauntered away.

Something caught my eye in my moonlight sanctuary. In the silvery light, I noticed a small circle where nothing grew.

All around the circle, the earth was green and healthy, but this circle was barren. There were no signs of a fire, but it reminded me of a fire pit where all life had been burnt up.

I knelt down next to the barren patch. The soil was cold. Normally, I could feel the earth pulse with life under my touch. Here, there was nothing. No beat, no hum of roots or worms. It was empty.

It felt wrong.

How did I miss this before? I ran my hands over the ground, trying to encourage it to come to life like I had in other parts of the garden. Nothing happened. There was no green shoot, no worm wriggling to the surface.

A shiver coursed through me, an echo of my unsettling dream.

Then I realized this was the same place where the shadow in my dream had been. Was the dream more than a mere dream? Had I encountered something more sinister?

It couldn't be a coincidence. My hands hovered over the earth, but I was hesitant to touch it again. It hurt me to my core to feel the absence of life, but I needed to know more.

I pressed my palms into the dirt, closing my eyes and reaching out for the glowing connections of light I associated with life. Silence greeted me, an oppressive, heavy silence that swallowed my attempts to reach out.

The ground felt corrupted, as if my dream had left a stain.

I couldn't get the dead patch of earth out of my head as I laid out the table for breakfast in the sunny conservatory the next morning. I felt on edge. I fussed over the placement of the jams and butter, the cutlery and the napkins. Each detail felt like a test I wasn't sure I was passing.

My first guest, Elias, chuckled and settled into his seat. "You've excelled yourself, Miss Hartwell," he said.

I smiled. "I hope you like everything."

"Yes, indeed." He spread marmalade on his toast and took a bite. "You know, there's something about this place. It's very inspiring."

I poured myself a cup of tea and sat down to listen.

Elias's eyes twinkled behind his round glasses. "Llyncroft is a place of legends. It's like the land is alive." He took a sip of tea. "Like this old inn. Some say it's built on ground that was sacred to ancient spirits."

I leaned forward. "Really?"

"Yes," said Elias. "Some historians and some locals believe that there's a link between the land and the stories. It's like the guardians of the earth, they say, look after the land. Some people believe the guardians are still here." He buttered another slice of toast, lost in thought for a moment.

Henry joined us, pouring himself a drink.

"Mr. Lawson, could you tell us one of those stories? Something local perhaps?" Henry's fascination was as palpable as the steam rising from his tea. I wondered if these two would be friends after they left Willow Grove.

Elias's face lit up, and he clasped his hands together. "Certainly! There's one that springs to mind, quite pertinent to our surroundings." He sat back, preparing to tell his story.

"In the early 1800s," he began, "there were a series of unexplainable events in Llyncroft. The crops failed, the livestock fell ill, and there was a general feeling of hopelessness over the village."

Henry leaned in, his spectacles slipping down his nose. "What happened?"

Elias adjusted his own glasses. "The villagers were desperate when a stranger arrived in the village. A shadowy woman of unknown origin, but she had an energy about her that suggested she was at one with the earth."

I shivered and wrapped my hands around my teacup. "What did she do?" I asked.

"She walked through the fields," Elias said. "She barely touched the dead plants. Wherever she went, things grew. The people called her 'The Green Lady' and believed she was nature personified."

Henry's eyes were wide. "Did she save Llyncroft?"

Elias nodded. "In a way. The Green Lady worked hard, and she restored the land. But as quickly as she came, she was gone."

Henry leaned forward, his brown eyes alight with a blend of scepticism and hope. "Is that story true, Mr. Lawson? Did The Green Lady really exist?"

Elias considered his question, steepling his fingers beneath his chin as he looked out into the garden in the early morning light. "Well," he said after a moment. "History is often a blend of fact and folklore. There's no hard evidence to prove she was real, but many of the locals would swear by the legend."

I watched Henry's face. He looked torn between being fascinated and maintaining his usual analytical reserve.

"But what about records?" Henry persisted. "Is there any written record, like a diary entry or a letter?"

Elias nodded. "There are references in personal accounts from that time, but they're quite cryptic. Talking about a kind presence in those dark times. But there's nothing concrete, I'm afraid."

Henry snorted. "People like a good story, I suppose. So we know nothing for sure."

"Isn't that the way with history?" Elias's voice was kind. "Maybe that's not a bad thing. It means the mind is always working, and the heart is open."

Bella joined us at the table, catching the end of Elias's story. "Last night, something strange happened to me too," she said. "Oli and I were walking Evie back to the Inn. I was showing Evie this glowing stone Oli and I found. It was warm, like it had its own heartbeat."

She paused and looked around at us. "When I was showing it to Evie," Bella said, her hands moving in the air. "It was ripped out of my hand! It just disappeared."

Elias furrowed his brow and adjusted his glasses. "Your story reminds me of an old Llyncroft legend," he said after a moment. "The Thief of Light."

Bella's eyes were fixed on Elias.

"It was many years ago," Elias said, his voice taking on a storyteller's tone. "There were rumours of a dark figure that would move through the shadows and would take anything that was light or warm. I think it was around the same time as the Green Lady."

"People started to notice things missing as the land began to heal," Elias continued. "Anything that glowed or shone in the moonlight would disappear from people's homes and gardens. It got so bad that people wouldn't leave their precious things out at night in case the mysterious figure took them."

"Did they ever catch this thief?" Henry asked in a low voice.

Elias shook his head. "No one ever saw them properly, but it started something like the Salem Witch trials in Llyncroft. In the village, people turned on each other, and I think the old tavern was set ablaze."

Had the dark shadow The Green Lady vanquished returned to Llyncroft? From the conservatory, I looked out, half expecting a shadow to pass by.

All I could see was a black cat sitting on my window ledge.