THE ENSHROUDED SECRET The night had stretched too long, and by the time morning crept into the lodge, the air felt heavier, denser, as though the walls themselves carried the weight of what they had seen. No one mentioned the book when they first came down to breakfast, but Daisy could feel it hanging over them, a silent, poisonous presence that clung to every look, every half-spoken word. The dining hall smelled faintly of stale bread and damp wood. Plates scraped against porcelain, spoons clinked against cups, but it was all background noise, dull and distant, as though none of them really tasted what they ate. Daisy pushed her toast around her plate without lifting it to her mouth. She had barely slept, not after seeing the faceless man in her dreams and the drawings that matched him exactly inside that cursed book. The images clung to her mind, seared into her vision every time she blinked. Across from her, Sugar sat with her bandaged arm cradled in her lap. She wore her