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He wasn’t sure anymore.

Determined to continue, Sam turned to the letters from the local villagers. One in particular stood out—a letter from the village priest, Father Matthew, written in 1895, shortly after Eleanor Colton’s death.

“I have done what I can to lay her soul to rest, but there is something deeply wrong at that house. It is as though the very air is poisoned, as though the ground itself rejects the dead. I fear the evil that has taken root in the Colton family may never be purged. The villagers speak of the ancient rites, the sacrifices that were once made on that land. I cannot say whether these tales are true, but I know that the darkness there is real. I can feel it every time I step foot on the estate.”

Sacrifices. Occult symbols. Dark rites. The Colton Estate wasn’t just a family home—it was a place where something terrible had happened, something that had left its mark on the land and its inhabitants.

As Sam sifted through more letters and documents, a pattern began to emerge. Every few generations, a member of the Colton family either disappeared, went mad, or died under mysterious circumstances. Suicides were common, as were strange illnesses that doctors couldn’t explain. Each death, each disappearance, seemed to coincide with strange events at the estate—sightings of figures in the woods, unearthly sounds in the night, and the discovery of strange symbols carved into the walls and floors of the mansion.

The most recent of these incidents had been Lord Andrew’s father, Lord William Colton, who had taken his own life in the study just over twenty years ago. According to the file, Lord William had been a troubled man, plagued by the same visions and voices that had tormented his ancestors. He had spent his final years obsessively researching the family’s history, convinced that the curse was real.

Sam’s head spun with the sheer volume of information. He leaned back in his chair, staring at the flickering flames in the hearth as the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place. Lord Andrew’s disappearance wasn’t an isolated incident—it was part of a pattern, one that stretched back over a century. The Colton family had been cursed, not by some supernatural force, but by their own dark history.

Suddenly, the room seemed to close in on him. The air felt thick, almost suffocating, and a strange sense of unease settled over him. Sam stood and walked to the window, hoping the fresh air would clear his head. But as he looked out over the mist-shrouded grounds, he saw something that made his blood run cold.

A figure—tall and indistinct—stood at the edge of the woods, just beyond the tree line. It was watching him, unmoving, its shape barely visible through the fog. Sam blinked, and the figure was gone, swallowed by the mist.

His heart pounded in his chest. He had seen it—he was sure of it. But when he scanned the grounds again, there was nothing there.

Sam turned away from the window, his mind racing. Was this what had happened to Lord Andrew? Had he been driven mad by the same visions, the same haunting presence that now seemed to be following Sam?

He shook his head, trying to clear the fog of fear that had settled over him. He wasn’t one to believe in ghosts or curses, but the things he had read, the things he had seen... they were starting to get to him.

Sam decided he needed answers, and there was only one place left to look—the Colton family archives, which were kept in the manor’s library. Doyle had mentioned them in passing, saying that Lord William had spent years locked away in the library, poring over old documents and family records. If anyone had uncovered the truth about the Colton family’s curse, it was him.

The library was on the first floor, a massive room lined with shelves that reached from floor to ceiling. Dust hung in the air, and the smell of old books filled Sam’s nostrils as he stepped inside. He scanned the room, his eyes settling on a large oak desk near the far wall. It was covered in papers—Lord William’s notes, no doubt.

Sam made his way to the desk and began sifting through the piles of papers. There were old letters, family trees, and newspaper clippings, all detailing the strange history of the Colton family. But it wasn’t until he found a large leather-bound book, hidden beneath a stack of papers, that he realized he had found something significant.

The book was titled “The Rites of the Old Blood.” Sam’s hands trembled as he opened it, the pages yellowed and fragile with age. Inside, he found detailed descriptions of ancient rituals, blood sacrifices, and invocations to dark, forgotten gods. The language was archaic, but the meaning was clear—the Coltons had been involved in something far darker than he had imagined.

As Sam read through the book, he began to understand. The Coltons had been cursed, not by some external force, but by their own actions. Generations ago, they had performed dark rites, sacrificing animals—and possibly people—in exchange for wealth and power. But those deals came with a price, and now the family was paying for it.

The final page of the book held a chilling message: “The blood debt must be paid. There is no escape.”

Sam slammed the book shut, his heart racing. This was it. This was the key to everything. Lord Andrew’s disappearance, the strange occurrences at the estate, the deaths that had plagued the family for generations—it all came back to the dark rites performed by their ancestors.

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