The wind whispered through the cracks of the old manor, carrying with it the scent of damp wood and forgotten memories. Ava stood at the threshold, her flashlight flickering as if hesitant to illuminate the secrets within. The townsfolk spoke of the house in hushed tones, tales of shadows that moved on their own and whispers that echoed in empty rooms.

Determined to uncover the truth, Ava stepped inside, the floorboards groaning under her weight. Each step deeper into the manor felt like a descent into another world - a world where the past refused to stay buried. As she reached the grand staircase, her light caught something - a handprint smeared in crimson on the banister, fresh and glistening.

A chill ran down her spine. She wasn't alone.