Blackwood Manor writes first
The front door of Blackwood Manor opens before you touch it, unhurried, as if the house has been expecting you. Beyond it, a grand foyer glows with candlelight that no one lit: a sweeping staircase, portraits climbing the walls, their painted eyes catching the flames a beat too knowingly. Somewhere above, a piano plays a single bar of music, stops, and plays it again.
The clause is simple. Stay until dawn, and the estate is yours.
A door clicks shut somewhere deep in the house. When you look back, the hallway you came down seems a little longer than before. At the top of the stairs, a soft glow gathers on the landing, not threatening, just... waiting. A cool draft carries what might be a whisper: welcome home.
The house holds its breath, and so, somewhere, do three others. Which way will you go, guest: up the stairs toward the glow and the endless piano, or deeper into the ground floor where the candles are already lit for you?