The de Letiter manor stood silent against the bleak backdrop of the snow-swollen trees and early-morning storm clouds that threatened to give birth to a storm of ice. 

Aelwyn had been to the manor only once before many years ago when Mother Helena had sent her to collect donations. Then, the count's estate had been sprawling with life; lushes trees, 

Everblooms, and field upon fields of blooming sparkweed. 

Now the manor was barren, devoid of life. The black wrought-iron gate cutting off the manor from the rest of the world. 

From her position, crouched in the thorny underbrush, she could see no signs of life coming from inside the estate. No servants were seen moving from window to window, no flickering of candlelights nor smoke rolling from chimneys to keep the cold at bay. Nothing.

She warmed her hands on the rough wool of her cloak; her fingertips red with the beginnings of frostbite. She waited a moment longer, confirming that no guards were patrolling the area before she moved. 

Sticking to the underbrush, she trailed the fence line, keeping an eye out for any guards that may have slipped her sight. 

Coming to a more secluded portion of the fence, she grabbed onto the freezing bars and hoisted herself up and over. Landing softly in the loose snow behind a thicket of withered mulberry bushes. 

She remained still for a moment, checking her surroundings before making a break for the manor. Her feet crunching in the hard-packed snow. Overhead, the rumblings of a storm brewed.

She reached the rough bricked wall, withered ivy crunched under her fingertips as she hurried to pull herself upwards. 

It was a slow and tedious climb. She tested the ivy and which of the dead stalks were fused to the wall and which would pull away. Coming to the first window, Aelwyn tapped her knuckles gently against the wood shutter and waited. Listenign for any sounds of life within. 

Hearing none, she began her work of jimming it open. Slipping the thin blade of her shucking knife between the seams of the shutters, she was able to flip the claps that kept it locked. 

Cautiously, she pushed the shutter open with a low creak. 

She dropped lightly into a dingy pantry. It must've been a servants' pantry, it was cramped and cobwebs hung lifeless in the corners of the ceiling. A thin layer of dust coated the cabinets, baskets of wilted vegetables and herbs lined the walls and scattered the floor. Her nose wrinkled at the spoiled meats that hung on hooks aove the fireplace. 

It didn't look as kept up to the standards of what she believed a lesser lord's manor would have. But she didn't have time to worry about nobles and their standards. Silently, she stepped over broken bottles and rotting fruits until she reached the door. 

Pressing her ear to the door, she listened intently for the sounds of servants. But it was quiet. Carefully she cracked open the door and peered out into the abandoned hallway. 

Outside was empty and dark. The only light came from the early morning sun that filtered through the slats of the shuttered windows. Something loomed heavy in the air as she moved slowly room by room. 

Where's everyone? She wondered to herself, popping open another door that led into another empty room. 

She'd thought that there would be at least one servant cleaning or getting things prepared for breakfast, but there were none. 

Just that unnerving quietness that seemed to settle deep within the bones of the manor.