Chapter 1: Lord Errol Croft
One week earlier
In the heart of the cemetery, nestled amidst the somber embrace of gravestones, a woman's anguished cries echoed through the air. Tears streamed down her face, each droplet a testament to her grief. Clutched delicately in her trembling hand was a crimson rose, its petals soft and fragrant against her skin. Bending down with a heavy heart, she gingerly laid the flower upon the cold surface of the grave, a silent offering to the one she had lost.
"There exists both a genesis and an expiration for all that inhabits this world," she murmured through her sobs, her voice a poignant melody tinged with sorrow. Her shoulders trembled as emotions surged, the weight of life's fleeting nature pressing upon her chest. "Life's journey encompasses both birth and death, but his passing, it was a chapter I wasn't prepared to close."
Her tears flowed freely as she stood, a lone figure against the backdrop of memories etched in stone. "I've witnessed the departure of those dearest to me, watched as life's tapestry unraveled," she confessed, her voice a mixture of melancholy and longing. Her gaze, a mosaic of emotions, lingered upon the grave before her. "And yet, losing him, it's a wound that cuts deeper than I could have fathomed."
With a slow turn, her silhouette carved against the dimming light, a serendipitous streak of lightning illuminated the heavens, casting an ethereal glow upon the tombstone's inscription. Through the darkness emerged the name that had etched itself into her heart: 'Winston Smith.'
Lara Croft retraced her steps, leaving the realm of the departed behind. The distant rumble of thunder played in harmony with her footsteps as she approached her waiting car, each sound a reminder of nature's mourning. Slipping into the driver's seat, she felt the cool raindrops splatter on her skin, the downpour a reflection of her own turbulent emotions. The engine roared to life, the steady thrum matching the cadence of her thoughts, as she embarked on the journey back to Croft Manor.
Upon her arrival, the garage's sanctuary welcomed her, offering respite from the tempestuous world outside. The car's engine sighed to a stop as she emerged, sealing the door behind her. With deliberate steps, she ascended the stairs, her solitude a heavy shroud draped around her shoulders. The grandeur of the manor echoed with her footfalls, a symphony of emptiness that matched the void within.
A sigh escaped her lips as she entered her bedroom, a space of personal solace and unspoken memories. The weight of the day bore down on her, making the simple act of undressing and preparing for a shower seem like insurmountable tasks. Instead, she collapsed onto the inviting expanse of her bed, the softness of the mattress a tangible comfort. Tears flowed anew, the fabric absorbing her heartache as her sobs echoed in the stillness.
Exhaustion, both physical and emotional, overtook her. Her body's heaving gradually subsided as the rhythmic patter of rain against the window became a soothing lullaby. Sleep enveloped her, a temporary reprieve from the agony that gnawed at her soul, as dreams and memories intermingled in the realm of slumber.
The crack of thunder shattered the tranquility of Kurtis's slumber, jolting him awake. He groggily pushed himself up from the bed, his movements sluggish as he rubbed the remnants of sleep from his eyes. The dim light filtering through the curtains revealed a somber, gray panorama outside—the world drenched in a ceaseless downpour. Rain had been the constant companion of London for the past night, and it showed no sign of relenting. With a resigned exhale, he muttered to himself, "Always raining in this damned city."
Dragging himself to the window, he gazed upon the wet cityscape. Raindrops raced down the glass pane like frenetic dancers, distorting the outside world into a watery mosaic. The sound of rain tapping against the windowpane was a soft, steady rhythm, almost like a lullaby if it weren't for the persistent pattering.
The cold tiles underfoot in the bathroom sent a shiver through his body as he turned on the shower. The water came cascading down, each drop a revitalizing kiss on his skin, chasing away the last vestiges of drowsiness. Steam swirled around him, creating a warm cocoon of comfort amid the chill of the rain-soaked air.
Emerging from the shower, his senses awakened, he padded barefoot to the living room. The plushness of the couch greeted him as he sank into its embrace. With a languid stretch, he reached for the remote and powered on the television, the screen flickering to life.
The newscaster's voice permeated the room, bringing with it the news of the approaching Halloween, an event tinged with both excitement and a tinge of weariness in Kurtis's heart. "Another round of heavy-duty," he mumbled, a mixture of exasperation and a hint of nostalgia lacing his words. He had become all too accustomed to chasing after otherworldly creatures and malevolent forces during such times.
As the news segued into its next segment, Kurtis's attention remained engaged. The mention of a grand manor on the screen captured his gaze, and his mind immediately flickered to memories of Lara's estate—a place he had visited only a few times. He recalled the overbearing butler who had a knack for being a constant presence, trailing Lara as though bound by an invisible tether. Yet, in the midst of his annoyance, he had also sensed the genuineness of their connection, a relationship that had shifted since the return of Lara's biological father, displacing the butler from the role of sole protector and confidant.
The news unveiled new layers to Lara's life, weaving a narrative of intrigue and rivalry. Kurtis's brow furrowed as he listened intently, his fingers absentmindedly drumming on the armrest of the couch. His memories intertwined with the details, images of Lara's stories and experiences conjuring a vivid backdrop in his mind.
Switching off the TV, he stood, the weight of concern settling heavily on his shoulders. A resolute expression crossed his face as he made up his mind. "Time to see if she's alright or if she needs a helping hand," he thought, his determination igniting a fire within.
Descending the stairs, he gathered his belongings—a trusty backpack, keys, and unwavering resolve. The rain outside had intensified, a relentless deluge that obscured the world beyond. Undeterred, he stepped out into the tempest, the raindrops splattering against his skin like miniature explosions of cold liquid.
His motorbike stood sentinel in the rain-soaked driveway, a beacon of freedom and determination. Straddling the machine, he revved the engine to life, the roar a counterpoint to the cacophony of raindrops. With a swift twist of the throttle, he set off into the rain-drenched streets, his destination clear in his mind's eye—the Croft Manor, a place where secrets and challenges awaited, and where a resolute adventurer named Lara stood against the storm of uncertainty.
In the field, Lara engaged in a spirited battle with Jake, the cool morning air carrying their exertions. Memories of their early training sessions flooded her mind, casting her back to those bygone years when they honed their skills together. The earth beneath their feet bore witness to their struggle, connecting them to their shared history. Jake, the only one who shared her profound connection to Winston, had been there when her father vanished. It was he who guided her through her first raid, a defining moment that solidified their bond.
As their grappling intensified, a distant drone grew louder until it filled the sky above them. They paused, eyes turning to the heavens where a helicopter sliced through the atmosphere. Lara rose, glancing at Jake before extending her hand, a silent gesture he understood. He reached out, their fingers intertwining, and she pulled him upright.
"Isn't it flying lower than usual?" Jake questioned, his voice carrying a note of curiosity. Lara cast her gaze upward and, with a resigned sigh, affirmed his observation.
"Fetch the firearms," she instructed, determination burning in her eyes. And together, they strode away, drawn by the unexpected intrusion.
Their steps brought them to the rear of her Manor, a grand structure that bore the weight of history. The helicopter's descent had concluded, and a solitary figure awaited them. As they approached, Hillary, the son of Winston, emerged to meet them.
"It's your uncle Errol, Lara. I attempted to persuade him to choose a more opportune moment, but his schedule is unyielding," Hillary conveyed, his tone betraying a touch of empathy. Lara exchanged a glance with Jake, her emotions barely contained beneath her exterior.
"Perhaps it's time to acquaint Jake with his quarters and establish a network for the PC," Lara proposed, her gaze momentarily shifting to her uncle's position. Questions swirled within her mind—why was he here? Swiftly, she advanced toward him, her purpose overriding her trepidation. Her uncle's presence was unsettling, a stark reminder of the past.
"He's still indulging in his soldierly fantasies, I see," Errol commented as she closed the gap between them. Lara disregarded his jab, cutting to the chase.
"What brings you here, Errol?" she demanded, her voice firm and unyielding.
"The family believes it's time for you to vacate the Manor," he replied, his words laced with a sense of entitlement.
"My father, your own brother, bestowed this estate upon me—not the entire family," Lara asserted, her voice unwavering. "And he's returned, you know that."
Errol's gaze bore into her, unwavering. "Richard's will may not entirely align with the family's wishes. It's time for you to move forward, away from both the Manor and the preordained marriage."
Fury surged within her, a potent mix of defiance and indignation. "I will not be forced into a union with that wretched man. Nor will I relinquish this home. You'll have to pry it from my cold, dead hands."
Her anger echoed through the air, a testament to the numerous times the family had tried to direct her life's course. Errol persisted, his tone a mixture of admonishment and concern.
"Why must you be so obstinate, Lara? You are the youngest of the Crofts, the bearer of our legacy."
"Yet not the name," she countered, her retort sharp. "I have my own path to tread."
She started back toward the Manor, Errol's voice halting her in her tracks. She pivoted, her gaze locked onto him, a silent demand for explanation.
"We all seek continuity, Lara. It's a favor to the family, a testament to your father's legacy. Do this for us," he implored.
"And what exactly is it?" she inquired, suspicion tainting her words. The growl of a motorbike interrupted the conversation, drawing her attention to the front.
"What the Croft lineage demands—a legacy that's endured for centuries within these walls. A legacy your father knew you couldn't uphold," Errol disclosed, his gaze now distant. "You can confirm with him yourself."
Firmness surged within her, an unyielding resolve to retain her birthright. "The house stays with me. So do me a favor and vanish," she ordered, her gaze unwavering. Errol's attention shifted behind her, revealing his disdain for the person who stood there.
"If that's your wish, Lara, we'll reconvene in a week's time. Farewell," he declared, retreating toward the waiting helicopter. Lara turned on her heel, her focus locking onto the figure he'd noticed. Her disbelief transformed into swift action, propelling her toward him until she was enveloped in his embrace.
It was a reflex she couldn't suppress; his absence had left a void she longed to fill. She stared into the depths of his azure eyes, a cascade of emotions crashing over her.
"Why are you here?" she queried, her voice a mixture of disbelief and relief. The helicopter's diminishing sound underscored their reunion.
"I heard about Winston and your uncle's presence," he responded, his voice a reassuring balm.
"Yes, the paparazzi trail him incessantly," she replied with a wry grin.
"But I also came to see you. I've missed you beyond measure," he confessed, his lips meeting hers in a tender kiss. Lara reciprocated, their connection rekindled in an instant.
"Shall we adjourn inside?" she suggested, their embrace loosening as they began their journey back to the Manor's entrance.