Run: 2026-03-06-01KK1HFA9RTWXACRGHYN7BQ5SV

Rain rattled Blackthorn Manor while guests whispered around silver candles. At midnight, the clock stuttered, then swallowed every hopeful sound. Lady Harrow entered laughing, her emerald necklace bright against velvet. Moments later, a scream tore sharply through the candlelit gallery. We found her crumpled beneath the portrait of smiling ancestors. The necklace was gone, and blood jeweled her pale throat. No window stood open, and every door remained bolted inside. Yet among the ashes, someone had left fresh lavender petals. Inspector Vale arrived silently, removing gloves with meticulous, mournful care. He studied our faces, then announced, "One among you lies."