For a day that began with unease, it passed surprisingly well. We had cold porridge for lunch and hot porridge for dinner—porridge and watered-down ale seemed to be Uncle Elias's staple diet. He spoke little, and when he did, it was always brief and abrupt, tossing a question at me after long silences. Whenever I tried steering the conversation toward my future, he skillfully dodged the subject.
In the room next to the kitchen, where I was grudgingly allowed, I found an array of books—some old, some newer, in both Latin and English. I spent the afternoon absorbed in their pages, forgetting, for a while, the strangeness of my situation. By evening, I was almost reconciled to my stay at the Manor of Shadows. Almost—until Elias's piercing, darting glances reminded me of the distrust that lingered between us.
Among the books, I found something peculiar. In the flyleaf of an old chapbook, clearly written in my late father's hand, was an inscription: "To my brother Elias, on his fifth birthday." What puzzled me was that, as the younger sibling, my father should not have been writing before the age of five. Either he had made an error, or he had possessed a miraculous ability to write clearly at a very young age.
When I brought up the subject over dinner, Elias reacted in a way that only deepened my suspicions.
"Was my father quick with his studies?" I asked casually.
"Edgar? Him? Never!" he barked. "I was the clever one when we were young. I could read before he could even spell."
This answer led me to another question: "Were you two twins?"
Elias jumped as if struck, dropping his spoon with a clatter. His small, bright eyes darted to mine, his face pale. "What made you ask that?" he demanded, his voice shaking.
"Take your hands off me," I said firmly when he grabbed my jacket. "This isn't how you treat family."
He muttered something about my father being his only brother and returned to his meal, visibly shaken. His erratic behavior planted a thought in my mind—a thought I tried to suppress. Was I the rightful heir to something Elias sought to keep from me?
As the evening wore on, his unease became palpable. He finally announced that he had a sum of money—forty pounds—which he claimed to have saved for me since my birth. He invited me to step outside "to see the night" while he fetched the money. I complied, though I found his sudden generosity suspicious.
When I returned, he placed thirty-seven golden guineas in my hand, pocketing the remaining change with a nervous laugh. "There you go, proof of my honesty," he said, avoiding my gaze.
But his behavior only heightened my wariness. Moments later, he handed me a rusted key and instructed me to retrieve a chest from the tower at the far end of the house.
"Can I take a light?" I asked.
"No lights in my house," he replied curtly, a strange gleam in his eye.
Out into the night I went. The storm clouds loomed low, and the air felt heavy. Unlocking the tower door, I stepped into pitch darkness. The stairs were steep and uneven, but I pressed on, using my hands to guide me. Lightning illuminated the crumbling structure, revealing gaping breaches in the walls and a perilous drop into the stairwell's dark heart.
Realization struck: Elias had sent me into the tower to fall to my death. Anger surged within me, and I resolved to confront him. Carefully, I retraced my steps and descended, the storm now raging outside.
As I reached the kitchen, I found Elias sitting with a bottle of spirits, trembling and pale.
"Ah!" I shouted, gripping his shoulders. He let out a bleat and collapsed to the floor. At first, I thought him dead, but he revived after I splashed water on his face. "What did you think you were doing, sending me to that death trap?" I demanded.
His response was a mix of feigned innocence and incoherent muttering. I secured the keys and searched the house for answers, finding little of use besides a dagger, which I concealed under my coat.
Elias, now visibly ill, begged for his medicine and pleaded to go to bed. Though I agreed, I locked him in his room and kept the key. That night, I stoked the fire and slept in the kitchen, armed and determined to uncover the secrets of the Manor of Shadows.