The old Victorian house stood like a ghostly sentinel, its once-grand facade now weathered and worn. The paint had long since peeled away, revealing the grey bones of the wooden frame beneath. The windows, once bright and welcoming, now stared out like empty eyes, their panes cracked and broken.

The front door, adorned with a rusty iron knocker in the shape of a lion's head, hung crookedly on its hinges, as if it had been forced open by some unseen hand. The...