The morning air was cold and bracing as Claire returned to the barn, armed with a flashlight, work gloves, and her father’s heavy crowbar. She knelt beside the trapdoor, heart pounding in her ears, and slipped her fingers through the iron ring. It took several tries, but finally the door creaked open, releasing a waft of cold, stale air. A narrow set of stairs disappeared into darkness below, dust swirling in the shaft of her flashlight. Standing at the edge, Claire hesitated only a moment before starting down.
The silence was complete—every step echoed, every breath seemed to stir the secrets of the past. She felt as if she were crossing a threshold, not just into a hidden room, but into a part of her father’s life she’d never truly known. Whatever waited below, Claire was ready to face it, determined to understand the message her father had left behind.