It was a glorious day following the house warming. Everything had gone as well as could be expected after Marcus left last night, but the comment I heard as people left still bugged me. What happened to May?

The morning light streamed into the conservatory, illuminating the breakfast table where my guests sat. They were unusually quiet, lost in their own worlds. Everyone seemed calm, just distant.

I poured myself a cup of tea. My fingers touched the warm china as I picked it up. Hosts get people to talk, I reminded myself. I took a deep breath before turning to my guests.

"Elias," I said. "I was wondering if you know anything about the history of this property?"

Elias looked up from his plate. His eyes flashed with recognition or wariness, I wasn't sure.

"From what I can tell, Willow Grove has always been a part of Llyncroft," he said. "I knew your grandmother May, which is why I booked the room. She had a vision for this place, a place of refuge and quiet. A place where people could decompress whether or not they had gifts."

The Pembrookes listened into the conversation. My question silencing the quiet murmurs of Henry and Margaret who were sharing a scone, Oli paused in his note-taking, and Bella stopped eating her toast mid-bite.

"The land is old. There are stories that go back centuries. Some say it's blessed, others say there are curses from forgotten souls."

I leaned forward. "What do you mean?"

"There are stories," he said. "Of battles fought on the land, long before your grandmother's time. Stories speak of ancient rites and guardians who roamed these lands in ancient times."

"But not specific stories? What about conflict?" I asked. "Has Willow Grove always been associated with conflict?"

Elias looked at me for a moment before replying. "Conflict isn't just in the land, it's in humanity. But yes," he said, with a slight frown. "There's been conflict at Willow Grove over the years and some say a curse."

He glanced beyond me towards the lush garden I had worked hard on, then turned his gaze back to me.

"It's part of its magic," Elias said. "And its misery."

I looked back at Elias, silently asking him to continue.

"The curse," Elias began, "is as old as the hills that cradle Llyncroft. It started with a love that burned too bright, between a local girl and a traveller from faraway lands."

I closed my eyes and listened to his words. I pictured her. A young woman with hair like spun gold and eyes the colour of the earth. Standing at the grove's edge, she waited for the returning traveller who had promised to come back to her.

Elias's voice dropped to a whisper. "The traveller knew the old ways. He shared this with her, binding their souls together. But such power comes with a price."

In my mind, I saw the shadows gathering around them. The traveller's hands were glowing with an otherworldly light as he drew symbols in the air, casting a spell that would ensure they would be together.

"The land was jealous," Elias continued. "It loved the girl who walked its fields and forests. In its anger, it demanded a sacrifice."

The scene changed before me. I saw the fear in the girl's eyes as she realised what their love had done. The ground beneath them cracked open, swallowing the golden light of their magic, leaving only darkness.

Elias's voice seemed to come from far away. "The land took the traveller, scattering his essence across time and space. The girl was left, her soul bound to the old oak tree and Willow Grove forever."

I shivered and opened my eyes to find Elias watching me.

"And so," he finished, "the curse remains. Those who seek to possess and control Willow Grove for themselves awaken the land's anger, while those who love and nurture it receive its blessing and love." He muttered something under his breath, which sounded to me like 'I loved her.'

Oli's eyes lit up. "That's amazing! Is there more to it? Like, has anyone ever tried to break the curse?"

His excitement was infectious, and I found myself caught up in it, despite the weight of Elias's story.

Henry snorted, cutting through the mystique that had settled over us. "Old poppycock," he muttered loud enough for all of us to hear. "Just superstitious nonsense to scare children and gullible adults."

He caught my eye and gave me a half shrug, as if to say, 'What can you do?'

I turned back to Elias. "What would that curse look like now? I mean, it's modern times. Does the land hold grudges from hundreds of years ago?"

Elias's face darkened, and he sat back in his chair, staring at me.

"The land doesn't forget," he said. "It remembers the love that was lost and the tragedy that followed."

I felt like everyone in the room was watching him as he spoke.

"If someone were to upset the balance," Elias continued, "if they try to take more from the land than they give back, that's when the curse would come to life. It could begin with minor accidents on the property, but would escalate if provoked."

Was that why Davies had died here? Had May taken more than she had returned? Given the lushness of the grounds and the peace I felt here, I didn't think that could be true.

"Do you think that's why I found the body here?" I asked without thinking the question through.

I thought about Marcus's warnings and the recent troubles at Willow Grove and Fiona's insistence on balance. Could it be that this curse was more than just a story? Could it be affecting us now?

Elias nodded, as if he could read my thoughts. "It might be affecting us now, and could be linked to the body. But I believe you'd might feel the curse in your bones," he said. "Like a heaviness when you walk the grounds. Plants might die for no reason, or there might be an unexplained chill in the air."

I hugged myself, remembering the shadow in my dream and the dead patch of land where I assume the shadow had stood.

"So there's something about balance, returning what you take?" What had I taken from Willow Grove? I had only consciously given back by tending the grounds.

"There is, but if I'm honest, I don't really know that much about it. My calling is different."

"So I'm guessing you have your own gifts," Bella said.

"You can't ask that," Margaret gently reminded her daughter.

"I do, young lady. As you know, everyone in the village does. But wisdom means you only share with people when it is safe to do so. Even if everyone here understands something of the arcane."

There was a knock at the front door.

I glanced through the window. I saw Gethin's broad-shouldered figure silhouetted against the morning light through the window. My heart skipped a beat.

I opened the door to his piercing blue eyes. "Evie," he said. "I need to talk to you." His voice was urgent.

"Gethin," I replied. "What brings you here so early?"

He stepped inside, running a hand through his hair. I noticed he only did that when he was trying to figure out how to tell me something. "I have some information from our inquiries," he said, glancing back towards the conservatory, where my curious guests would undoubtably try to eavesdrop.

"Let's talk in the reading room." I led him away from prying ears.

Once inside the reading room, with its walls lined with books and inviting armchairs, Gethin closed the door behind us. He seemed different this morning, more tense and businesslike. He didn't sit down, but faced me.

"We've made some headway," he said, never breaking eye contact. "There's more to the murder than we first thought."