A House Never Empty
They say an empty house is just bricks and dust.
But I’ve always thought otherwise.
Every empty room remembers. Footsteps linger longer than they should. A breath held in the walls. Ashcombe is no different—it’s not the ghosts that stay, but the weight of every soul who’s passed through and left something behind.
I’ve spent years wandering haunted pages and dusty folklore books. What fascinates me isn’t the dead—but the living shadows they leave behind.
Tell me… have you ever walked into a room and felt like you weren’t quite alone?
The manor is always listening.
— C.N. Harrow
But I’ve always thought otherwise.
Every empty room remembers. Footsteps linger longer than they should. A breath held in the walls. Ashcombe is no different—it’s not the ghosts that stay, but the weight of every soul who’s passed through and left something behind.
I’ve spent years wandering haunted pages and dusty folklore books. What fascinates me isn’t the dead—but the living shadows they leave behind.
Tell me… have you ever walked into a room and felt like you weren’t quite alone?
The manor is always listening.
— C.N. Harrow
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