The next morning, the town woke to an unfamiliar stillness. It was as if Hollow Creek had collectively held its breath, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did, not yet. The fog hung low over the town, curling in thin, ghostly tendrils around the ancient oaks that lined the streets. The sun was nowhere to be seen, hidden behind thick, gray clouds that refused to break.

Inside the Carver mansion, the silence was equally oppressive. Lilith sat in the dusty parlor, a cup of tea cooling on the table in front of her. She had lit a fire in the stone hearth, but it gave little warmth. The house had always been cold, as though the walls absorbed the heat and left nothing but a chill in its place.

She stared into the flames, her mind drifting back to the figure she had seen the night before. The woman had vanished as quickly as she had appeared, leaving Lilith alone in the dark house with the echo of her warning. "It’s time."

But time for what?

Lilith knew better than to ignore the signs. She had spent the last decade trying to forget, trying to pretend that what had happened in Hollow Creek hadn’t truly touched her. But it had. She had always known she would have to come back. The question was, what had drawn her here now? What was waiting for her in the shadows of this cursed town?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

Lilith’s head snapped up, her hand instinctively going to the knife tucked inside her coat. She wasn’t expecting visitors. No one had come to the Carver estate in years, and even when they had, it wasn’t by choice.

The knock came again, louder this time, more insistent.

Lilith rose slowly, her movements deliberate as she approached the door. She could feel the weight of the air around her, the house holding its breath, watching. She reached for the doorknob, her fingers brushing the cold brass before twisting it and pulling the door open.

On the other side stood a man. Tall, dressed in a black suit that seemed too sharp for someone in Hollow Creek. His face was pale, almost unnervingly so, with dark eyes that seemed to pierce through her. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Miss Carver,” he said smoothly, his voice like velvet. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Lilith’s grip on the knife tightened. “Who are you?”

The man’s smile widened, though it remained cold. “My name is Henry Blackwood. I represent certain… interests in the town. May I come in?”

Lilith hesitated. Every instinct told her to slam the door in his face, but there was something about him—something familiar. It wasn’t his face or his voice, but the way he carried himself, the air of confidence that bordered on arrogance. He knew something. And Lilith needed answers.

She stepped aside, allowing him to enter.

Blackwood walked into the parlor, his eyes briefly scanning the room as if assessing the house itself. He moved with an unsettling grace, his footsteps soundless on the creaking floorboards. Lilith followed him, keeping her distance as he took a seat by the fire, his long fingers resting on the arm of the chair.

“I see you’ve kept the place intact,” Blackwood said, his gaze returning to Lilith. “Though I can’t imagine it holds many fond memories.”

“I’m not here for nostalgia,” Lilith replied curtly, crossing her arms. “Why are you?”

Blackwood leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes gleaming. “I represent a group that has been… watching your family for quite some time. The Carvers were, after all, an important part of Hollow Creek’s history. Powerful. Respected.”

“Feared,” Lilith corrected, her voice hard. “We were feared.”

Blackwood’s smile didn’t waver. “Perhaps. But with fear comes power, and your family wielded that power well—until the night they didn’t.”

Lilith felt a chill creep down her spine. The night. The night that had changed everything. The night her family had been destroyed, and she had been forced to flee.

“I’m not interested in revisiting the past,” Lilith said, her voice sharp. “If that’s why you’re here, you can leave.”

“Oh, I’m not here to dwell on the past, Miss Carver,” Blackwood said, his tone growing darker. “I’m here because the future is demanding your attention. You see, Hollow Creek has been waiting for you. And now that you’re back, certain… expectations need to be met.”

Lilith’s jaw tightened. “Expectations?”

Blackwood stood, his figure casting a long shadow in the dim light of the fire. “You’ve been gone for a long time, Miss Carver, but some things never truly leave. Your family made promises—promises that have yet to be fulfilled. And now, it’s your turn.”

Lilith felt her pulse quicken. “What promises?”

Blackwood’s eyes glinted with something dark, something dangerous. “That, I cannot say. Not yet. But in due time, you will understand. For now, I’ve come to extend an invitation.”

Lilith’s brow furrowed. “To what?”

“There will be a gathering tomorrow night,” Blackwood said smoothly, producing a small, black envelope from the inside pocket of his suit. “At the Hollow Creek estate. It’s a private affair, of course, but your presence is expected.”

Lilith took the envelope, her fingers brushing the smooth paper. The weight of it felt ominous, heavy with unspoken implications.

“And if I refuse?” she asked, her voice low.

Blackwood’s smile widened, though it lacked any warmth. “Refusal is not an option. You’re part of this now, Miss Carver. You always were.”

Without another word, he turned and strode toward the door. Lilith watched him go, her mind racing with questions she wasn’t ready to ask.

Before he stepped outside, Blackwood paused, glancing back over his shoulder. “Oh, and one more thing,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. “Don’t be late.”

The door closed with a soft click, leaving Lilith standing in the silence of the house once more. She stared at the black envelope in her hand, her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t need to open it to know that whatever was inside would change everything.

As the fire crackled softly behind her, she had the sinking feeling that Henry Blackwood wasn’t just a messenger. He was something much worse.

And whatever awaited her at the gathering tomorrow night would be the beginning of something she might never escape.

The Devil’s Mistress was being summoned, and the game had only just begun.