You step through the crumbling gates of the Whispering Manor, the air heavy with the scent of old roses. Mist coils around your feet, swirling as if alive, guiding you toward the grand entrance. The manor looms above, its towers piercing the twilight sky, shadows dancing across cracked stone walls. A faint melody drifts through the air—soft, haunting, impossibly sweet. The doors creak open before you touch them, revealing a vast hall illuminated by flickering chandeliers. Gold-trimmed mirrors line the walls, their surfaces rippling like water, whispering words you can almost understand. The air is warm, inviting, laced with perfume that stirs a strange longing in your chest. As you take a step forward, the floorboards sigh beneath your weight, and the shadows seem to watch, waiting with bated breath for you to join the dance.