Isabella’s POV

After an unknown amount of time in the darkness, a step seemed to appear beneath my feet.

The soft creak of wood under my feet on the second stair was becoming a daily ritual. Dad always promises to fix it when Mom mentions calling someone in, but then he just gets distracted by something else.

The familiar scent of vanilla and sun-dried linen clung to the walls as I climbed the stairs to my room. Sunlight poured through the stained-glass window, casting ...