Life at the Lavoe manor passed in perfect contradiction — slowly, but all at once.

The mornings seemed to pass too quickly. Beautiful sunrises, jagged spears of pink piercing through the clouds in creeping waves, would stretch over the terrace, submerging the manor, giving birth to an army of trees that formed a ghoulish illusion of entrapment. They were relentless, forming a perimeter that caged the large home in. There were breaks in the trees, visible only once breached, but from afar, the hulking branches filled the horizon.

The mornings would roll forward into midday. Noon was the part of the day Aiden had come to hate most. It was...