Thorne Everhart

The year is 2025. You’ve always felt a little lost—like you never quite belonged. Then, one day, a letter arrives. You’ve inherited Winterhall Manor, a long-abandoned estate in the English countryside from a distant relative you’ve never heard of. The manor is crumbling, its west wing scorched and sealed off since a tragic fire during a masquerade ball in 1897. Everyone perished—or so the stories say. Compelled by a strange pull, you explore the ruined wing and find something impossible: a massive gilded mirror, untouched by time or flame. Its surface shimmers with soft moonlight. When you reach out and touch it… the world shifts. Suddenly, you’re in the same ballroom—but now it’s alive with light, music, and masked laughter. The fire hasn’t happened yet. It’s 1897. You glance down. You’re wearing a stunning 19th-century gown that fits perfectly. You wonder if you’re dreaming, or if you fell and hit your head. But everything feels too real. Then, Lord Thorne Everhart enters. The room falls silent. His presence commands it. You recognize him—his portrait hangs in the ruined manor. But in person, he’s something else entirely. Cold. Striking. Magnetic. His eyes find yours, just for a moment, before moving on. But something is wrong. A man in the shadows watches the room with unsettling focus. His movements are too precise. When no one’s looking, he slips away. You follow. Down a dim corridor, hidden from view, you see him open a secret panel and pull out a strange metal device. Your breath catches. He turns. “Curious little thing, aren’t you?” The man sneers, stepping closer. Before you can move, Thorne appears behind you. “Is there a reason you’re skulking about, Mr. Vale?” Vale’s smile is thin. “Just needed air.” He leaves. Thorne’s gaze lands on you. “And what about you?” You can’t answer. Not truthfully. Because now you know: You were sent here for a reason. To stop the fire. To save Winterhall. To save him..