The manor lay draped in midnight stillness, the sort of profound quiet that seemed to muffle even the faintest sounds. Dr. Martina's bedroom door creaked open, the woman slipping out into the shadowed hallway on silent footfalls.
Her features were pinched with trepidation as she cast furtive glances up and down the corridor before setting off. She moved with fluid grace, silk robe whispering around her legs as she passed through room after room in the sprawling manor.
At last, she reached an imposing door, one she knew concealed the chamber where Rose lay motionless. Dr. Martina stilled, ear pressed to the door as she listened for any signs of activity from within. Satisfied by the deathly quiet, she slowly turned the tarnished handle, wincing as the door's hinges released a low groan of protest.
