Her Uncle Left Her an Old Mountain House – Then She Discovered Its Hidden Secret…

On the third day, Ida appeared at the door with a tin of biscuits and a look of sharp anxiety. She didn’t step inside. Instead, she grabbed Clara’s sleeve, her knuckles white. “Mark was a man of his word,” she whispered, her eyes darting toward the dark hallway. “But he carried heavy work on his shoulders. Lock the brass bolts like he used to. The mountain has its own song, and we all must heed it, don’t we?”