Jack helped Emma step carefully over the crumbling stones, guiding her down a narrow path where a broken iron gate leaned drunkenly against a tree trunk. The estate grounds were haunting in daylight — not the twilight-laced beauty they’d seen in the other realm. Here, nature had reclaimed everything. Vines strangled the outer walls, and wildflowers pushed through cracked marble.

“Look,” Emma said softly, pointing to a weathered sign half-buried in the mud.

Cranemoor Manor

Historic ...