Elara crouched low, her fingers trembling as she reached for the box half-buried beneath a pile of overturned books. The air in Maeve's cottage was thick with dust and silence, the faint creak of the beams overhead the only sound. Just as her hand closed around the worn leather, a shadow fell across the doorway.
Startled, she looked up to see the stranger. He was tall, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the fading light. His cloak hung heavily, the edges frayed and weathered, and his gaze—the sharp gray of a storm—settled on her with unsettling intensity.
"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice low and steady, carrying a note of warning.
Elara froze, clutching the box to her chest as her pulse quickened. She didn't answer—she couldn't. Instead, she fumbled for her journal, scribbling hastily: *Maeve was murdered. This box might explain something.*
He stepped further into the room, his boots kicking up dust from the wooden floorboards. His eyes flickered to her writing, narrowing slightly as he read. "Murdered?" His voice softened, though the edge of suspicion remained. "I only arrived in Oakhaven yesterday. What's in the box?"
Before Elara could respond, heavy footsteps thundered toward the door. Sheriff Alaric appeared, his broad frame almost filling the doorway. His ruddy face was twisted into a scowl as his sharp gaze darted between Elara and the stranger.
"There you are!" Alaric boomed, his tone thick with accusation. "And you—the newcomer! Meddling where you don't belong."
The stranger straightened, his jaw tightening. "Rowan," he said, his voice calm but resolute.
Alaric scoffed, crossing his arms. "I don't care who you are. Trouble follows strangers like you." His eyes turned to Elara, narrowing further. "And you—always poking your nose where it shouldn't be. What's in the box?"
Elara scribbled quickly, her heart pounding: *Maeve hid it. It might explain her death.*
But Alaric dismissed her, muttering, "Hmph. You won't find answers there—just more trouble." He turned on his heel, stomping out of the cottage with a warning glare. "Mark my words, this isn't over."
The tension in the room thickened as the door swung shut, leaving Elara and Rowan in uneasy silence. Rowan studied her for a moment longer before speaking.
"Show me what's inside," he said, his tone soft but firm.
Elara hesitated, but there was something in his gaze that spoke of understanding rather than judgment. Slowly, she opened the box.