The abandoned mill stood stark against the darkness, its sagging roof and splintered beams casting jagged silhouettes against the faint starlight. Elara gripped the box tightly as she approached, her footsteps deliberate and quiet. The key felt cold in her palm, its intricate engravings catching the faint light.
She hesitated at the door, the air around her heavy with an energy she couldn't explain. Maeve's warnings echoed in her mind, urging her forward even as fear clawed at her resolve. Before she could insert the key, a hand gripped her arm.
She spun around, startled, to see Rowan standing behind her. His face was shrouded in shadow, but his storm-gray gaze was steady.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice low and firm.
Elara yanked her arm free, fumbling for her journal as she scribbled: 'Maeve was murdered. This is connected. I need to see what's inside.'
Rowan glanced at her writing, his expression unreadable as he considered her words. "If you're going in," he said after a pause, "I'm coming with you."
Without waiting for her reply, he pushed the door open. The groaning hinges broke the silence of the night as he stepped inside, his lantern casting faint light over the rotting floorboards. Elara hesitated, clutching the box tightly, before following him into the dark.