The Inheritance

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Lilly Harper barely remembered her mother. Bits and pieces cold hands, burning sage, a song hummed in the dark came in flashes. But real memories? They slipped through her fingers like smoke.

She hadn't even known her mother owned anything, let alone a cabin hidden in the forests of Vermont. The letter arrived weeks after the funeral, stamped with the insignia of a lawyer's office in a town she'd never heard of: Black Hollow.

The will was brief. One line: "To my daughter, Lilly Harper, I leave the house at Pine's End."

No explanation. No warmth. Just an address scrawled at the bottom like an afterthought.

The train ride upstate was long and silent. No cell signal for hours. The bus driver who took her the rest of the way didn't speak, just dropped her off on a gravel road that vanished into tall pine trees.

Lilly stood there with her duffel bag and sketchbook, watching the last sign of civilization disappear down the road. Wind stirred the needles above. The forest creaked.

The town itself was strange. Black Hollow had one diner, one gas station, and too many eyes watching her like she'd come to disturb something that should've stayed buried.

At the inn, the woman behind the counter blinked when she saw the address.

"You're staying up near Pine's End?" she asked.

Lilly nodded. "My mom's old place."

The woman went pale. "Nobody's lived there in years."

"I know. I'm just staying for a few weeks."

The woman hesitated, then handed over the old, brass cabin key. It was ice-cold in Lilly's hand.

"If you hear anything at night," the woman said, not meeting her eyes, "don't follow it."

"...What kind of thing?" Lilly asked.

But the woman was already walking away.

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