Marcus's jaw clenched as the wind pressed against him, invisible hands clawing at the wards he'd spent weeks weaving into the bones of the house. Beside him, Callum's grin sharpened into focus as his own power flared, threads of crackling silver twining with Marcus's precise golden sigils.
For a moment, it was chaos—light searing against shadow, wards straining and groaning like timbers in a storm.
Then, with a sound like a great inhale, the manor steadied. The chandelier stilled. The air quieted, leaving behind only the faint hum of magic simmering beneath the surface.
Marcus exhaled slowly, releasing the last of the spell. Callum leaned back on his heels, dusting his hands as if he'd just finished fixing a door hinge. "And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you silence a temperamental house."
Lucian's eyes narrowed. "Temporary silence."
Callum winked. "Is there any other kind?"
