Kyuriym - Secrets of the Ancient Estate, Kyuriym

The village of Brackenmoor would recover. The Colton family’s tragic history would fade into legend, and the shadow of the society would be lifted. But Sam knew that the scars of what had happened here would linger, both for him and for those who had been touched by the darkness of the estate.

As he stood to leave, Sam took one last look around the grand hall, the morning light filtering through the windows. The blood moon had set, and with it, the weight of the past had lifted. It was time to go.

End of Chapter 8.

Epilogue: Shadows That Linger

The village of Brackenmoor looked different in the light of morning, but the change was only on the surface. Sunlight filtered down through the trees, dappling the narrow streets with gold and warmth, but to Sam McAlister, it was a shallow kind of brightness, a fleeting illusion of peace. The heavy clouds of the blood moon were gone, but the shadows left behind by the events of the past few days would never entirely lift.

Sam stood on the edge of the village, near the train station where his journey had first begun. His bags were packed and resting at his feet, but his mind was still tangled in the web of secrets he had uncovered at the Colton estate. The cold, biting wind blew in from the hills, carrying with it the scents of damp earth and moss—reminders of the land and its dark history. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing it in, letting the finality of it settle over him.

It was over. Doyle was dead, Alice was in custody, and the remaining members of the secret society had either fled or been arrested. The cursed grip they had held over the Colton family and the village had been broken, and the truth had been laid bare. But that truth, now exposed to the light of day, felt both like a victory and a burden.

The past few days had taken their toll on Sam. Physically, he was still recovering from the knife wound Doyle had inflicted during their final confrontation. The stitches in his side ached with every movement, but it was a deeper pain that lingered—a weight that seemed to settle in his chest, heavy and hard to shake.

The estate was now a shell of its former self. Lord Andrew, alive but broken by the events, had decided to leave Brackenmoor for good. The estate would likely be sold or abandoned altogether. The grand halls, the hidden rooms, the darkened corridors that had once pulsed with secrets—now they stood silent, empty. Sam had uncovered everything, but he knew that the shadows of the Colton family’s history would always haunt the place.

And in a way, those shadows would always haunt him, too.

The train whistle sounded in the distance, pulling Sam from his thoughts. He turned to see the train approaching the station, its engine chugging along slowly, the smoke billowing into the morning air. The last time he had arrived here, it had been under the weight of mystery and fear, but now as he prepared to leave, there was a sense of something more complex—something unresolved.

Sam had always prided himself on closing cases, on finding the truth and delivering justice. But as he stared down the train tracks, he realized that not all truths bring peace. Some truths linger, like ghosts, following you no matter how far you try to run. The Colton estate was a place bound by tragedy, but it was also bound by human frailty—ambition, betrayal, and a desperate need for control. And in the end, it wasn’t an ancient curse or dark forces that had claimed the lives of the Colton family; it was the choices of men and women, each complicit in their own way.

As Sam reached down to pick up his bags, the soft sound of footsteps caught his attention. He looked up to see Alice being escorted toward a waiting police car, her wrists in handcuffs, her face pale and drawn. Her eyes locked onto his for a moment, her expression blank, as though the events of the past few days had drained her of all emotion.

Sam felt a pang of sympathy for her, despite everything. Alice had been born into the Colton legacy, raised on the lies and expectations of a cursed family, manipulated by the same forces that had destroyed so many before her. She had made terrible choices, and she would pay for them, but in that moment, Sam saw her not as a villain, but as another victim of the twisted web that had ensnared the Coltons for generations.

“You’ll be going away for a long time,” Sam said quietly as she passed by, though there was no malice in his voice, only a grim acknowledgment of the truth.

Alice didn’t respond, but her gaze lingered on him for a second longer before the police car door slammed shut behind her. As the vehicle pulled away, Sam watched it disappear down the narrow village road, his heart heavy.

He knew that Alice’s story, like the Colton family’s, would be forever bound to this place. No matter where she ended up, the ghosts of the estate would follow her.

The train pulled into the station, and Sam boarded, taking a seat near the window. As the train began to move, he gazed out at the village, watching as the familiar landscape of Brackenmoor slowly receded into the distance. The mist hung low over the hills, curling around the trees and hedgerows like the ghosts of the past, reluctant to let go.

His thoughts drifted back to the beginning, to when he first arrived in the village, full of questions and skepticism. The rumors of a cursed family, the mysterious disappearance of Lord Andrew, the whispers of a blood moon—it had all seemed like an elaborate gothic tale, a puzzle waiting to be solved. But now, after everything he had seen and experienced, Sam understood that some puzzles don’t have neat solutions. Some stories don’t end cleanly.