I stepped off the train into a world swallowed by fog, rain, cold and misty roads. The sky is grey, the air smells like wet stone and earth mingle with faint scent of coffee and smoke. The rain wasn't heavy, just enough to coat the cobblestones in a sheen that reflected the pale morning light. The chill crept under my coat, making every breath feel sharper.

The station was alive with the clatter of footsteps, the echo of announcements, and the rhythmic hum of rolling suitcases. My suitcase is blue in colour, the colour which I never liked in my whole life but my mother does. The eerie wind is blowing, the railtrack filled with drops of water, the foggy station of Edinburgh is filled with foggy trains. I paused for a moment, gripping the handle of my suitcase, and took in the scent of damp stone and rain-soaked earth, a smell so distinct it tugged at some deep, unspoken memory.

The floor were wet, glistening like mirrors under the faint glow of the old-fashioned station lights. People rushed past, their faces shadowed beneath umbrellas, boots splashing through shallow puddles. A distant church bell chimed the hour, its sound haunting and lonely like me. Its cutting through the thick air. I felt like an outsider, detached and invisible, watching a world that didn't notice me.

"This city feels like it's alive," I murmured to myself, my breath forming faint clouds in the cold air.

Dragging my suitcase over the uneven cobblestones, I tried to shake off the heaviness that had followed me here. But every step seemed to echo louder than before, like the city was whispering secrets I couldn't quite hear. I visited Edinburgh when I was just 12 with my father for some business now I'm 17, the memoriesare faint but I remembered the laugh of him, the way he oftenly gave me isolated advices. I'm fully alone after my fathers funeral. My mother doesn't likes me, I'm like a liability on her. Now, she's free from it.

For a moment, my mind drifted back to the funeral, to the hollow sound of the priest's voice as he read the eulogy. My mother crying crocodiles tears but I didn't cry when the priest spoke at my father's funeral, I was in trauma. He was really precious for me, the only person who understands my awkwardness. But now I'm changed. As the fog embraced the city, I felt his absence like a hole in my chest.

"I miss you, father" I whispered into the fog, as if he could hear me. But the only response was the faint rustling of the wind through the old, stone buildings. I took a taxi, which was filled with water drops and I get in and give address of my aunt home. Which is 17 Candlemaker Row, Edinburgh, near Greyfriars Kirkyard.

The street is bustling with cafes, lantern lit alleys and small book stores. I'm fond of reading books, like high fantasy and paranormal romance. Here houses are made of aged sandstone, the houses carrying a weathered charm. Their exteriors are darkened by rain, with moss and ivy creeping up their walls. The Tall windows with black iron frames reflect the gray skies, while chimneys release faint trails of smoke. The Sloping roofs, slate, glisten as raindrops trickle down from their edges. The Taxi Driver said "First time in Edinburgh, lass? You'll find it both enchanting and unsettling." In friendly way.
I distracted replied "Yes... I think I'm already feeling both."
He was chuckling "Aye, it's the fog. Makes you feel like the city's alive, doesn't it?"
I whispered to myself "Alive... or haunted." Than I noticed a magnificent blurred castle on the hill, surrounded by beautiful green forest and fog. It was looking haunted to me. I asked to taxi driver "Do you know anything about this castle ?"

The taxi driver answers me in haunted way "The Castle A.K.A. the castle of vampires."

It was unbelievable when he mentioned vampires. I only read them in my novels. I nodded "vampires? They are just fictional creatures."

He said very awkwardly "The history of Edinburgh is fill with blood. Its really mysterious place and people says before us there vampires ruled, it was their kingdom."

I wanna ask more but I arrived at street. He mentioned that from there I've to go to by foot. Which seems really awkward to me, first time I felt like I'm not only one who is awkward, the town is filled with mysteries and awkwardness, especially the castle. I felt something from it when I saw it first time, like I've been in it before. As I step off from the car the rain begins. The big drops of rain falling on my clothes, I forget to grab umbrella. I took my luggage and running towards my aunt house. While running I noticed, The rain gave the houses a somber beauty, their golden sandstone darkened to deep amber, contrasting with the pale mist hanging over the city. Windows fogged up from the warmth within, while droplets raced each other down glass panes. The Wrought-iron railings along steps and small balconies. The Weather-worn doorways, some painted bright red, some green, or some blue, offering a pop of color against the dreary gray backdrop.
Each step felt like walking on history, the stones smooth from countless footsteps over the years.

I finally arrived at my aunts house which is a Georgian townhouse, three stories tall, with symmetrical windows and a sturdy black door adorned with a brass knocker in the shape of a lion. I loved her small garden which is in the front, overgrown with ivy and lavender, adding a rustic charm. The walls show signs of age, with small cracks and patches of discoloration from years of rain. I feel hesitation and anxiety because I'm introverted person but I took a deep breath and knocked. Then the big wooden door open warmly, I felt warm and inviting smell of interia. Than Aunt Remenise said warmly but observant.
"Elena, welcome. It's been too long since family walked through these doors." I was never like that as I thought, it was magnificent, I felt first time love after my father died. She is kind, loving as my father told me about her. Her straight brown hair waving smoothly, her brown eyes set on me. I feel little nervous but politely I amswerd "Thank you for letting me stay. I didn't know where else to go."
Aunt Remenise gently, reassuring said "You're exactly where you're meant to be."
"Why did that sound more like a prophecy than a welcome?" I thought. She was smiling, cryptically "Come inside. This house has waited for you as much as I have." I hold my heavy luggage and get in.

As I stepped into the house, a wave of warmth wrapped around me, a sharp contrast to the cold, foggy streets outside. The smell of burning wood from the stone fireplace greeted me, mingling with the faint scent of old books. The living room felt like something out of an old novel, shelves lined with worn, leather-bound volumes, and two deep green velvet armchairs positioned near the fire. A thick rug stretched across the wooden floor, its intricate patterns faded with age.

"It's beautiful," I murmured, running my fingers over the edge of a wooden shelf.

Aunt Remenise smiled, her hands clasped in front of her. "It's old, but it's home. Let me show you to your room."

We climbed the narrow staircase, the wood creaking beneath our feet. On the second floor, she led me to a door at the end of the hallway. "Here it is," she said, opening it with a slight push.

I stepped inside, and my gaze swept over the space. A four-poster bed with soft, faded floral sheets sat against the far wall. The wallpaper, though peeling in places, added a nostalgic charm with its delicate roses winding up imaginary trellises. A small desk stood by the window, overlooking the cobblestone street below.

"It's perfect," I said, setting my luggage down near the bed.

Remenise lingered by the door, her expression soft but distant. "I thought you might like it. It's quiet here. Peaceful."

I nodded, brushing my fingers along the edge of the desk. "Thank you, Aunt Remenise. For everything."

She gave a short nod. "Settle in. Lunch will be ready soon."

As she turned to leave, something caught my eye-a door at the far end of the hallway, half-hidden in the shadows. "What's behind that door?" I asked, pointing.

Her posture stiffened slightly, but she didn't turn around. "Just storage," she replied, her tone clipped.

"Can I see it?" I pressed, curious now.

"No," she said firmly, her voice sharp enough to make me flinch. "It's nothing important."

I watched her walk down the stairs, her steps measured and deliberate. For a moment, I stood there, staring at the closed door. Something about her reaction didn't sit right.

"She's just like the rest of them," I muttered under my breath, turning back into my room. "Always hiding something."

I sank onto the edge of the bed, my thoughts swirling as I stared out the window. The fog outside thickened, curling around the streetlights like a living thing. Whatever secrets this house held, I knew they wouldn't stay hidden for long.