Run: 2026-02-25-01KJ94Y7MGWCCXH0EEDB8A9SDF

Rain lashed hard against the old manor windows violently outside. Elara shivered deeply, clutching a flickering silver candlestick tightly. The immense house felt colder, heavier, utterly desolate tonight. A strange silence replaced the expected cheerful household sounds there. She moved through the gallery, anxiety churning low in her gut. Something was wrong; a primal fear held her breath captive. Then she saw it, a dark shape on the grand study floor. Her breath hitched sharply, a strangled gasp escaping her dry throat. Lord Ashworth lay still, blood staining his expensive tweed jacket. His eyes were wide open, fixed blankly toward the high ceiling. A silver paperknife protruded terribly from his immaculate white shirt. The ornate desk lamp lay shattered beside his outstretched hand. Elara dropped the heavy candlestick, screaming shrilly into the dark. The chilling sound echoed endlessly through the vast, empty halls. She stumbled backward, fumbling for her old, heavy, mobile phone.