The Moonlit Letters of Rosehall Keep

The first chill of early winter swept across the highlands as Lady Seraphine Lorne approached Rosehall Keep. The ancient stone fortress loomed above the misty valley like a silent guardian watching centuries pass beneath its battlements. Her horse exhaled clouds of frost into the cold air while her traveling cloak fluttered behind her. She paused at the foot of the gate and gazed upward with a mix of apprehension and determination. Her father had sent her here to uncover the truth behind her late uncle’s estate and to assume temporary stewardship. She had expected a quiet castle. What she found instead was a place heavy with secrets and whispers that prickled at her skin.

The gates creaked open revealing a tall man with intense blue eyes and hair the color of night. He held a lantern in one hand, its light illuminating strong features and a commanding presence. He bowed deeply.

Welcome to Rosehall Keep Lady Seraphine. I am Lord Rowan Ashford. I was a close confidant to your uncle and caretaker of the keep during his absence.

Seraphine dismounted with grace though her heart fluttered with uncertainty. Rowan had a voice warm enough to soften cold stone yet something in his expression hinted at a sorrow he kept tightly leashed.

Thank you Lord Rowan. I appreciate your welcome. My father mentioned little about Rosehall Keep except that my uncle loved this place dearly.

Rowan nodded but his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. Your uncle was a good man. His passing has left an emptiness here.

Seraphine felt the words linger in the air like a shadow. As they walked through the courtyard she noticed the ivy climbing the aged walls the soft glow of lanterns lining balconies and the notable absence of other servants. The silence was nearly unsettling.

Where is everyone? she asked.

Most of the staff left after your uncles death Rowan replied. Grief and superstition kept them away. Rosehall Keep has always had its share of stories.

Seraphine raised a brow. Stories?

You will hear them soon enough he said quietly.

Inside the keep she was shown a chamber prepared for her. It had tall windows framed by heavy velvet curtains and a carved wooden bed that looked centuries old. A faint scent of lavender drifted from the fireplace making the room feel unexpectedly warm.

Later that night after she had unpacked and changed into a pale blue gown she ventured into the grand hall where dinner had been arranged. Rowan sat at the long table waiting for her. The candlelight flickered across his face giving him an almost ethereal aura.

I hope the accommodations are suitable he said.

They are more than suitable she replied taking her seat. Though I must admit I did not expect Rosehall to be so quiet.

Rowan gave a small smile. Quiet is one word for it. Others might say haunted.

Despite his calm tone the words sent a shiver down her spine.

Haunted by what she asked.

Rowans gaze shifted to the tall windows where moonlight streamed through. By memories perhaps. Or by regrets. Or by truths that were never spoken.

Seraphine studied him carefully. He spoke as though he knew far more than he allowed himself to say.

After dinner she wandered the torch lit corridors of the keep. Her steps echoed softly as she passed portraits of stern faced ancestors. She paused before one that depicted her uncle. His eyes seemed warm yet troubled almost as though the painter had captured a secret hidden deep behind his gaze.

She continued down the hallway until she reached a door left slightly ajar. A faint whiteness slipped out from the crack like drifting smoke. Puzzled she pushed it open and entered a small circular room lined with shelves. Papers and books lay scattered across the floor as if abandoned in haste. Her attention was drawn to the desk where an unfinished letter sat beneath a moonlit window.

The ink was fresh though the handwriting seemed shaky.

Seraphine traced the first lines with her eyes.

To whomever inherits Rosehall Keep. There is something I must confess. The truth that binds this family is heavier than any curse whispered in the halls. If you have found this letter then my time has already ended and the shadows of Rosehall have grown restless.

The rest of the page was torn away abruptly.

Before she could react Rowan stepped into the room his expression strained.

You should not be here Lady Seraphine.

She turned to face him. This letter. Did you know of it?

He hesitated. I knew your uncle was writing something shortly before his death. But I never read it. He did not wish me to.

His tone was honest but his eyes carried turmoil.

Seraphine stepped closer. Rowan. What do you know of my uncles final days?

His breath caught. He looked away for a long moment.

Your uncle was troubled. He believed the keep was speaking to him. That the past was trying to reveal itself. He spoke of a hidden truth a vow broken long ago. I tried to help him. But the night before his passing he locked himself in the west tower and no one saw him again until dawn.

Seraphine felt a cold wave wash over her. And what did he see?

Rowan met her gaze with a haunted expression. He claimed he saw a woman made of moonlight standing by his window. A woman who wept for the past.

A chill ran down Seraphines arms. A ghost?

My lady Rowan said carefully. Not all spirits are ghosts. Some are memories that have not yet been laid to rest.

That night Seraphine lay awake replaying his words. The moonlight cast pale patterns on her ceiling. Every creak of the old stones felt like a whisper. Every shift of wind felt like a presence lingering just out of sight.

Near midnight she rose wrapped a shawl around herself and wandered toward the west tower. Her footsteps were soft on the cold floor. As she reached the winding staircase she felt a strange tug in her chest an inexplicable pull toward something unseen.

At the top of the tower she found a small chamber lit only by moonlight pouring through a narrow window. As she stepped inside she saw her breath mist in the air though the night was not that cold. She looked around slowly trying to sense whatever had drawn her here.

Then she saw it.

A single letter lay on the stone floor illuminated by a ray of moonlight. The edges of the parchment glowed faintly.

With trembling hands she lifted it.

The handwriting was her uncles but the ink shimmered like silver.

My dearest Seraphine. If you have come this far then the keep has chosen to reveal its truth to you. There is a legacy here far older than our family and a sorrow that has not been set free. Seek the woman in the moonlit garden. Only she can tell you what truly binds Rosehall Keep.

Her heart pounded. What woman? Who was she?

The next morning she confronted Rowan.

Rowan. Do you know of a moonlit garden?

His face paled slightly. Yes. But it has been sealed for years. Your uncle forbade anyone from entering.

Why?

He swallowed hard. Because that is where he saw her. The woman he believed was the key to Rosehalls curse.

Seraphine felt a rush of determination. Then take me there.

Rowan stared at her as though torn between duty and fear. Finally he nodded.

Very well. But what you find there may change everything you believe about your family. And about me.

His final words echoed in her mind as they walked through the overgrown courtyard behind the keep. Rowan stopped before a tall iron gate almost hidden beneath twisted vines.

Beyond this gate lies the moonlit garden he said quietly. A place where two centuries ago a tragedy unfolded. A tragedy that bound our families forever.

Seraphines breath caught. Our families?

Rowan nodded with a sorrowful expression. My ancestors once served Rosehall Keep. But there was more to the bond between our lines. Something far more intimate.

He pushed the gate open.

Inside lay a forgotten garden bathed in pale light even though the sun had not yet reached its peak. White roses bloomed in clusters glowing faintly as though lit from within. A marble statue of a woman stood near the center her face serene yet mournful.

Seraphine stepped closer. The statue looked eerily lifelike. The details delicate. The expression heartbreakingly tender.

Who is she?

Rowan exhaled slowly. Her name was Alinor Lorne. Your ancestor. And the woman my ancestor Rowan Ashford loved beyond reason.

Seraphine spun to face him. Loved?

Yes. Their love defied every rule of their time. A noblewoman and a knight sworn to her protection. Their bond was forbidden. But they defied the world for each other.

Then what happened to her? Seraphine asked breathlessly.

She died in this garden Rowan whispered. On a night when the moon was full and the roses glowed as they do now. Some say she was killed by those who sought to keep them apart. Others believe she died of grief for a fate she could not escape.

Seraphine turned back to the statue feeling a strange ache form in her chest. Something about the sorrow in the statue’s eyes felt familiar. As though the stone remembered.

Rowan stepped beside her his voice heavy. My ancestor swore that her spirit remained. That her sorrow lingered until the truth of their love was restored. It is said that the souls of those bound to this place are drawn to echoes of the past. Which is why your uncle saw her for the first time. And perhaps why you were called here as well.

Seraphine felt a tremor run through her. Rowan looked away as though struggling with something.

There is more he said quietly. Something I feared to tell you. Because it changes everything.

She turned to him heart pounding. What is it Rowan?

He met her gaze with raw vulnerability. Our families may be bound by ancient sorrow. But I fear my heart has bound itself to you.

Seraphine froze stunned by the confession. Rowan continued his voice trembling.

I tried to hold back. I tried to bury it the way our ancestors were forced to. But every moment I see you every breath you take within these walls brings me closer to a truth I can no longer hide.

He stepped closer his eyes filled with conflict and longing.

Lady Seraphine. I love you.

Her breath hitched. She felt her heart surge with emotion she had tried to deny.

Rowan I

Before she could speak a sudden wind swept through the garden though no storm clouds filled the sky. The roses glowed brighter. The statue shimmered. And a soft luminous figure emerged from the air.

Seraphine gasped.

The woman made of moonlight.

She drifted closer her form gentle and sorrowful. Her voice echoed like a whisper carried from centuries past.

Seraphine Lorne. Rowan Ashford. The past has returned to mend what was broken.

Rowan stepped protectively before Seraphine.

What do you want of us? he demanded.

The spirit looked at him with tender eyes. I am not here to harm you. I am here because your love mirrors the love that was lost. And only through truth can Rosehall finally be freed.

Seraphine stepped forward heart racing. Tell us the truth. What happened to you Alinor?

The spirit smiled sadly.

I was in love with the first Rowan Ashford. He was devoted. Brave. Loyal. But our love was forbidden and we planned to flee. On the night we were to escape I was discovered and struck down. He found me here moments too late. My last wish was that our love would one day be reborn unbound by chains.

Her gaze softened as she looked at the two of them.

The keep brought you together. Your hearts answered the call. If you choose each other without fear the sorrow of Rosehall will finally fade.

Rowan took Seraphines hands trembling.

Seraphine. Whatever fate awaits us I choose you.

She felt tears gather in her eyes. And I choose you Rowan.

Moonlight burst around them enveloping the garden in radiant warmth. The spirit closed her eyes with peaceful joy. Slowly she faded the sorrow in her features replaced by serenity.

Rosehall is free she whispered. And so am I.

When the light faded the garden looked different. Brighter. Warmer. Alive.

Rowan gently brushed a tear from Seraphines cheek.

It seems our ancestors finally have their peace he said softly.

And now perhaps we can have ours she whispered.

He drew her into an embrace. Their lips met beneath the glowing roses sealing a bond that no ancient tragedy could break.

In the days that followed Rosehall transformed. Servants returned. The halls felt lighter. Warmth replaced the eerie silence.

And in time love not sorrow became the legacy of Rosehall Keep.

A legacy Seraphine and Rowan vowed to protect for the rest of their days.

Together in truth.

Together in love.

Forever unbroken.