Raven Blackwood read the sign nailed to the cathedral gate and laughed. "Trespassers will be run off these grounds." She had crossed three counties to claim this hill for her coven, and now a stranger's paint told her to leave. She tore the sign down and folded it into her coat. The cathedral loomed above her, half-swallowed by ivy. Its broken windows caught the last gray light. For a year she had searched for a place like this. A place her sisters could gather without fear. She would not lose it to a landowner she had never met. Hooves broke the quiet. Four riders climbed the path toward her. At their front rode a heavy man in a good wool coat. He reined in and looked down at Raven like she was a weed in his garden. "This land is mine," the landowner said. "You'll be gone by dark, or my men will drag you out." His men carried clubs. One patted his horse's neck and grinned. Raven counted them and knew she could not fight. But she had walked this hill for two days. She knew what stood at its far edge. "You want the hill," she said. "Fine. Take the house first." The landowner frowned. "What house?" Raven pointed past the cathedral to the abandoned home below. Even at dusk it drew the eye. Its steep gables cut the sky. Cracked shingles hung loose. One window glowed faint yellow, though no one lived there. Wind moved through it and made a low moan. "People die in that house," Raven said. "Ask the town. Three owners in ten years. The last one hanged himself in the front room." None of that was true. She had never met the town. But the landowner's men had, and she watched their faces change. "Lies," the landowner said. His voice cracked. Raven walked toward the house. She climbed the sagging porch steps and pressed her palm to the door. It swung open on its own, hinges shrieking. Inside, the yellow light flickered and died. The moan grew louder. One rider crossed himself. Another backed his horse down the path. "I'm not going near that place," he said. "Not for wages." The landowner shouted at them to hold. No one held. His men turned and rode down the hill, and after a moment he cursed and followed them into the dark. Raven stood alone on the haunted porch. Her heart pounded, but she smiled. The hill was hers now. She had won it with a story and an open door. Then she heard footsteps behind her, inside the empty house. Slow. Deliberate. Climbing the stairs she had not touched. Raven turned toward the sound. The yellow light returned in an upstairs window, brighter now, and something moved across it. The house was not empty. And whatever lived here had let her in.