The Sinclair household was one filled with love, laughter, and unshakable family bonds. Eva Sinclair had grown up surrounded by warmth, never once doubting that her parents cherished all four of their children equally. No favoritism, no comparisons—just the simple, undeniable fact that family came first.
Lucas, the eldest, had always been the dependable one, the steady rock that the rest of them could lean on. He had followed the traditional path, becoming a well-respected financial analyst, the kind of son every parent would be proud of. Then there was Aaron, the second-born, the wild spirit who refused to be tied down. He thrived on adventure, always chasing the next thrill, yet somehow, he never seemed to falter, no matter how reckless his choices appeared. Eva, the third child and the only daughter, had always felt caught somewhere between responsibility and rebellion. And finally, there was Theo, the youngest—the charming, spoiled baby of the family, who had the unique ability to get away with just about anything.
Their parents, David and Evelyn Sinclair, adored each of them in their own way. They never pressured their children to follow a specific path, but that didn't mean they always understood their choices. Lucas's stable career brought them peace of mind, while Aaron's unpredictable lifestyle worried them but never truly disappointed them. Theo, being the youngest, had yet to face the weight of expectations. But Eva? Eva was different.
From a young age, she had dreamed of a life outside the usual mold. While her brothers pursued careers in finance, business, and technology, Eva had set her sights on the fashion industry. Modeling wasn't just a fleeting interest for her—it was a passion, a dream she was determined to turn into reality. Her parents supported her, but their concern was always present. Modeling wasn't a guaranteed path, and they feared for her future in an industry that could be both cruel and fleeting.
Despite their concerns, Eva refused to let doubt consume her. She had already come this far, and no matter how hard it got, she wasn't going to give up now.
That night, after a long and exhausting photoshoot, she was ready to go home. The job had taken her to the outskirts of the city, where the photographer wanted to capture a moody, abandoned aesthetic. It wasn't the first time she had been part of a late-night shoot, but something about the way the location emptied out so quickly made her uneasy. By the time she finished packing up, the rest of the crew had already left.
She drove for miles down the dark, empty road, eager to get back home. The dense forest on either side of the road seemed endless, the towering trees casting eerie shadows under the moonlight. Just as she was settling into the long drive, she felt the car shift slightly, followed by an unmistakable thumping noise. Her tire was flat.
Frustration bubbled in her chest as she pulled over and stepped out, inspecting the damage. She checked her trunk, only to find that she had no spare tire. Worse, her phone battery was at five percent, and there was no signal in the area. Stuck in the middle of nowhere, she had little choice but to start walking, hoping to find help before the night swallowed her whole.
The road was quiet, the air unnervingly still. Every shadow seemed to stretch toward her, and the eerie silence made her hyper-aware of every step. Just as panic started creeping in, she spotted something through the trees.
A castle.
It loomed in the darkness, ancient yet oddly untouched by time. The towering structure, with its gothic spires and ivy-covered stone walls, looked like something out of a forgotten legend. Something about it sent a shiver down her spine, but desperation overruled fear. If she was lucky, someone inside might be able to help.
With cautious steps, she approached, noting how the massive front doors were slightly open, as if inviting her in.
"Hello?" she called out, but her voice echoed into silence.
Hesitation warred with curiosity, but when a gust of wind pushed the door open wider, she stepped inside. The interior was dimly lit, dust lingering in the air, yet the castle didn't feel entirely abandoned. There was something about it—something ancient and waiting. And then she saw it.
At the center of the grand hall stood an ornate stone coffin, towering at 6.5 feet, with a crystal resting on top. The crystal pulsed faintly, casting a ghostly glow over the room. It looked priceless, untouched for centuries, yet inexplicably calling to her.
Her heart pounded as she stepped closer, her fingers hovering over the crystal. She knew she shouldn't, but some invisible force drew her in. And then, before she could stop herself, she touched it.
A sharp pain shot through her fingertip as the crystal pierced her skin. A single drop of blood fell onto the stone.
The castle trembled. The air grew thick. And deep within the coffin, something stirred.
That night, Eva Sinclair's life changed forever.
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