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New Beginnings, Rotten Edges.

New beginnings are supposed to feel fresh, like a clean slate, polished and ready to be ruined again.
Blair Nightmere would argue otherwise.

After leaving the restless heartbeat of New York City, she arrived in sweet London, where the streets hum a softer tune but hide just as many cracks. She traded towering skylines for narrow alleys, neon lights for flickering streetlamps, and noise for a different kind of chaos, the kind that pretends to be art.

Her new home sits in a district crawling with hippies and self proclaimed artists, each convinced their vision will save the world, though most can’t even save themselves. The whole place feels like it was never truly alive to begin with, a mess of peeling dreams and cheap paint.

Somewhere across this city lives her cousin, a familiar stranger with a childhood spent bouncing everywhere, now well established and living a life Blair can barely picture. They’re not close. Never were. But at least Blair can say she knows someone in London, a thread of familiarity she has no intention of tugging on. It’s enough to know the connection exists, like a lighthouse in the distance... there, but not shining for her.

The house she bought is small and rough around the edges, the kind of place you’d walk past without noticing unless you were looking for ghosts. Its bones creak beneath the weight of forgotten memories, its rooms heavy with a silence that feels almost sentient. For now, it’s nothing more than four walls and a roof, a hollow echo of what a home should be.

In time, the dust will settle, the cracks will be filled, and the shadows will learn their proper places. Ashen Hollow will become her sanctuary, a place where the city’s noise can’t reach her.

New beginnings don’t come wrapped in pretty bows. Blair didn’t come here to start over, she came to build something of her own, brick by bloody brick.