The town’s library became a hub of activity as amateur sleuths and concerned citizens gathered, whispering over the dusty volumes. The librarian, a stern woman with sharp eyes, indulged them, though she herself remained quiet, as if she knew more than she let on.

Then, strange things began to happen. Reports of a mysterious figure seen at the edge of the forest at twilight, lights flickering in the old Langston house, and odd sounds in the night. The air in the town felt charged, as if something extraordinary was on the brink of unfolding.

And just when it seemed the mystery might never be unraveled, a letter arrived at the town hall. It was from Margaret. Her handwriting was shaky but legible, filled with the grace of an era long past.