Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ94HMR3EF3AK96GEV2WVZY8

The old manor house loomed darkly against the stormy, oppressive, and truly unforgiving November night sky. Mortimer, the aged butler, shivered violently, gripping his silver tray with trembling, weak, and bony fingers. He had heard a faint, distressed sound coming from Lady Ashworth's bedchamber just moments before the silence. Custom dictated he ignore trivial noises, especially so late during the very chilling, lonely, and foreboding night. Yet, a cold, creeping premonition of immense dread compelled his frail, elderly legs ever closer now, toward the sound. The heavy, ornate door stood slightly ajar, revealing a narrow sliver of the dimly lit, opulent room within. A draft of icy, tomb-like air wafted outwards, carrying a faint, metallic, and truly unsettling, terrible odor. Mortimer swallowed hard, pushing the door open wider, his heart hammering wildly against his ribcage with immense force. Lady Ashworth lay sprawled across her expensive chaise lounge, her crimson silk robe now deeply stained and torn. Her wide, unseeing eyes stared blankly at the antique chandelier, a silent, horrifying testament to eternal surprise. A silver letter opener, usually resting on her writing desk, protruded grotesquely from her frail, unmoving chest. The pristine white rug beneath her had absorbed a widening, dark pool, starkly marring its former flawless beauty. A gasp escaped Mortimer's lips, a thin, reedy sound, barely audible in the mansion's suddenly suffocating stillness. This shocking discovery would certainly shatter the quiet life he had diligently maintained within this grand, old house. He stumbled backward, dropping the tray with a tremendous clatter, the sound deafening in the dreadful, silent chamber. His bony fingers instinctively fumbled for the wall-mounted bell cord, summoning help for his newly deceased mistress.