The dawn light filtered through the narrow windows of the old manor, casting long, wavering shadows across the dusty wooden floors. The once-grand estate, now weathered and forgotten, stood as a relic of a bygone era. Inside, the remnants of past opulence lay hidden beneath layers of dust and decay.
Amara, her cloak brushing the floor as she moved, stepped carefully through the manor's entrance hall. Her eyes, sharp and inquisitive, scanned the surroundings with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. She had come seeking answers, drawn by the stories of her ancestors and the mysteries that had lingered long after their passing.
She paused before a large, ornate mirror framed in tarnished gold. The glass was cracked, distorting the reflections into eerie, fragmented images. Amara's gaze lingered on the mirror, sensing a faint resonance of old magic.
"This place," she murmured to herself, "has seen more than its fair share of history."
