Theodosia McPhee was dying, and no one knew why.

The ordeal began shortly after her father moved the pair into the Wildmoore Estate, wooing his daughter away from city life with talk of the manor’s magnificent landscaping and stellar views of the countryside. And they were stellar -- the estate sat high on a hill, overlooking the rolling farmland of the county, pleasantly dotted with quaint houses and outcroppings of trees. From the enormous windows of the second floor sitting room, one could see for miles on a clear day. But in the weeks since Theodosia and her father moved into the home, the panes of the parlor had begun to mock her, like a jewel just out of thief's reach. She’d only ventured out into the rolling hills once before the affliction ensnared her, just two weeks after she’d unp...

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