The mist curled low around the mountains of Asheville, shrouding the Biltmore Estate in an eerie, dreamlike haze. Once built as a symbol of wealth and extravagance, its gilded halls now stood silent, heavy with the murmurs of a time long gone. Yet, beneath its polished charm, something unseen stirred—shadows whispering, spirits watching from dimly lit corridors where the air itself seemed to remember. As thunder rumbled through the hills, the truth began to surface: this “little mountain escape” was a place where the past refused to rest, and where the line between the living and the dead had long since blurred. Things are about to get strange.

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