The mansion's night carried on as it always did, small noises filling the air. Somewhere in the distance, a laugh tried not to be too loud and failed.
In another room, someone turned in their sleep and pulled a blanket tighter. Life went on, unbothered by what had just passed in the void.
Lilith poured from the waiting pot. Steam rose from the cups in lazy curls, catching the lamplight.
Elowen sat with quiet grace, her long hair catching the glow as she reached for her glass.
The ward lines carved into the stone walls pulsed faintly, breathing in a slow, even rhythm, content now that the house had its people back.
Outside those safe walls, cults stirred in the dark, shuffling their feet and pretending their steps were part of a march that mattered.
In clean halls filled with the smell of polish and old paper, officers changed posts and told themselves it was only routine.
