The Afton manor stood quiet beneath the gray skies of rural England, its ivy-covered stone walls whispering stories of the past. For William Afton, it was a home he hadn’t seen in years—a place buried beneath memories both fond and faded. But this time, he didn’t come back alone.

“Almost there,” he said softly, glancing in the rearview mirror. Michael sat in the backseat, his face pressed to the window, watching the foreign countryside roll by with quiet wonder. He was older now, nearly ten, but the ghosts of his early years still clung to him—shadows of a mother who smiled in public and struck in secret. William’s heart ached just thinking about it. He had failed Michael once. He wouldn’t fail him again.

In the car seats beside him sat Evan and Elizabeth, barely older than toddlers. Evan clutched a stuffed fox, holding it tight like a lifeline, while Elizabeth giggled at the sheep she saw through the window. They were his light—born from love, but also from loss. Their mother, his second wife, had passed after bringing them into the world. Some days, he still caught Elizabeth’s smile and felt her mother there, just for a second.

This was supposed to be a fresh start. A summer away from the company. Away from the past.

The children had never been to England. Never seen the towering woods behind the estate, or the old stone garden where William used to play with his brother. It was all new to them—mysterious, magical, untouched.

As the car pulled into the long gravel driveway, a gentle fog drifted across the fields. Michael sat up straighter, squinting at the enormous house that rose ahead of them. Evan yawned. Elizabeth squealed with delight at the sight of a crow perched on the gate.

“Welcome home,” William said, more to himself than anyone.