A wide-angle comic book splash page of Deverell Hall, 1743
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In 1743, Mira Deverell uncovers a dark family secret and a murder plot after her father's suspicious death at Deverell Hall.
CHARACTERS
Constable Aldous Pipe
supporting
Mira Deverell
supporting
PAGE 1
Panel 1:A wide-angle splash panel of Deverell Hall, a massive, brooding English manor of grey limestone on a jagged hill under a heavy, overcast November sky, with a dark, frozen millpond in the foreground.
Panel 2:Close-up of Mira Deverell, late 20s, sharp gaze, controlled expression, in a high-collared dark velvet mourning dress and bonnet, holding a heavy brass key while resting her hand on a leather-bound book in a candlelit library.
Panel 3:Mira's fingers trace an entry in an old ledger by flickering candlelight, a subtle frown on her face as if a detail puzzles her.
“Father's books... always so precise.”
PAGE 2
Panel 1:A single lantern light cuts through an impossibly thick fog at night, revealing only vague, looming shapes.
Panel 2:A close-up of a man’s hand, Constable Aldous Pipe's, pulling back a sodden wool coat to reveal dark, finger-shaped bruises on a pale, lifeless neck.
“This was no accident.”
Panel 3:Medium shot of Constable Aldous Pipe, a grim expression on his face, looking up from the body with the silhouette of Deverell Hall ominously looming behind him in the fog.
“Your father was murdered, Lady Deverell.”
PAGE 3
Panel 1:Mira and Constable Pipe stand in a formal drawing-room, Mira holding the heavy brass key, her expression thoughtful and determined.
“He kept this locked away.”
Panel 2:A close-up of Mira's hand inserting the brass key into a small, hidden lock behind a loose brick in the ornate fireplace.
Panel 3:Mira pulls a small, tarnished silver locket from the hidden compartment, her eyes wide with shock and recognition.
“This... belonged to Aunt Elara.”
PAGE 4
Panel 1:A flashback panel with softer lines: Elara, younger and distraught, stands arguing with a shadowy, menacing figure in a dimly lit hallway.
Panel 2:Mira and Constable Pipe lean over a detailed map of the Deverell estate, the locket resting beside it, as Mira points to a remote, overgrown area.
“The old hunting lodge... far from prying eyes.”
Panel 3:Mira, resolute and determined, gazes out a window at the distant, snow-dusted grounds, clutching the silver locket in her hand as Deverell Hall looms behind her.
“Justice will find its way, Father.”
