The Salem Family Manor

After Salem Vauthon left the original manor, it began to rot. The roof sagged. Walls cracked. Vines crept over the stone like fingers reclaiming the dead. Without Salem, the house withered. Dust choked the halls. It became a husk. Silent and watching. No one saw him leave. No one knows why. But Salem did not disappear. Deeper in the woods, he built again. Stone by stone. No tools. No workers. Only the sound of hammering in the night. When it was done, he entered alone, and the doors shut behind him. The new manor stands taller. Its windows are black. Its chimneys cold. Though the forest thickens, the path to its door stays clear, as if something wants you to find it. It does not welcome guests. But they come. Not many return. Inside, the air remembers. The silence listens. Salem is here, somewhere behind the walls, watching. The house endures. And so does he.