Chapter 167 — Lullabies Before the Storm
Marcelline slipped through the walls of Brooks Mansion like a whispered sin.
The air inside felt heavier than the night outside—old grief clung to the corridors, soaked into marble and memory alike. Chandeliers glowed faintly, but the warmth they once held was long gone. This place used to breathe laughter.
Now it only remembered screams.
She followed the sound of voices.
Aiden and Chloe.
They were in the living hall, sprawled messily across opposite couches—papers scattered, half-empty cups abandoned, exhaustion written deep into their bones.
"You cannot tell me you didn't see that shadow move," Chloe said, pointing accusingly at the far hallway.
Aiden scoffed, arms crossed. "It was a curtain."
"At midnight?"
"Curtains are brave like that."
Chloe glared. "You're lying."
"Obviously."
Marcelline hovered nearby, unseen, lips twitching faintly.
Still chaotic, she noted. Good. That means they're still holding on.
But the laughter didn't last.
It never did.
Chloe's shoulders slowly slumped, her voice dropping. "Aiden… do you think Max ever sleeps?"
The room fell quiet.
Aiden didn't answer immediately. His jaw tightened—just a fraction, but Marcelline noticed.
"He sleeps," he said finally. "Just… not like normal people."
Chloe hugged her knees. "He's always tired. Always angry. Always carrying things he won't tell us."
Her eyes flickered around the room—the cracked ceiling corner, the sealed hallway, the door no one entered anymore.
"This mansion used to feel safe," she whispered. "Now it feels like it's watching us."
Her voice broke.
"I took a nap this afternoon," Chloe continued, tears spilling despite her attempt to stop them. "And I dreamed about… about blood. About people screaming. About the massacre. It felt so real, Aiden. Like the walls remembered."
She covered her face.
"I woke up screaming."
Aiden stood abruptly, turning away.
He didn't say it.
But Marcelline saw it.
Every time Aiden closed his eyes, the same horrors waited for him. The same screams. The same shadows crawling across his dreams. He endured it silently—because someone had to be strong.
Because Chloe was still too young to carry that weight.
Marcelline's expression softened.
Soon, she thought quietly. You'll both sleep peacefully. I've been ordered to make sure of it.
The clock chimed softly.
12:30 AM.
Aiden cleared his throat. "Hey. It's late."
Chloe sniffed. "I know."
"Come on," he said gently. "Today your elder brother will help you sleep."
She tried to smile. "You say that like you're ancient."
"I am ancient."
He led her to her room.
Marcelline followed.
Chloe climbed into bed, tugging the blanket up to her chin—small, vulnerable, just like the child she used to be. Aiden sat beside her, brushing her hair back.
"You're treating me like a kid," Chloe mumbled.
He smirked. "You drool in your sleep."
"I do not."
"You absolutely do."
She huffed. "Liar."
He began telling a ridiculous bedtime story—something about a dragon who hated paperwork and a princess who bribed fate with cookies. Chloe laughed despite herself, eyelids growing heavy.
Marcelline watched.
Her chest tightened.
They deserve more than this.
When Aiden's voice softened and Chloe's breathing steadied, Marcelline lifted her hand.
The spell unfurled gently.
Dream magic—warm, protective, ancient.
Golden threads wrapped around both siblings, easing their minds, sealing nightmares away. Their faces relaxed completely as sleep claimed them—deep, careless, peaceful.
Like happy babies untouched by war.
Marcelline exhaled slowly.
"Sleep well," she whispered, though they could not hear her.
Then her gaze hardened.
Now… the real problem.
She rose, her form blurring as she flew through the mansion's depths—toward the sealed room.
Toward Eleanor.
The air there was wrong.
The entity writhed inside Eleanor's body, dark veins pulsing beneath her skin. Spiritual chains—once unbreakable—were snapping one by one, dissolving into nothingness.
Marcelline's eyes narrowed.
She smirked.
"Not so soon, buddy."
Her devil aura surged—thick, oppressive, glowing gold and shadow intertwined. With a sharp motion, she summoned nine of the strongest spiritual chains, slamming them into place.
The demon roared as the chains bound him completely—locking movement, power, even indirect influence.
But then—
Marcelline froze.
The entity laughed.
Low. Guttural.
Stronger.
No.
Her golden-amber eyes flickered in disbelief.
"How?" she muttered. "There's no external source. Eleanor's body alone isn't enough to fuel you."
The realization struck like ice.
Something else is feeding you.
And worse—
Eleanor's life force was dropping rapidly.
"At this rate…" Marcelline cursed softly. "She won't last."
Her knees trembled.
Casting nine chains in soul infiltration form drained enormous spiritual energy. Her vision blurred slightly—fatigue creeping in.
If I were in my physical body, this wouldn't be so difficult.
She straightened, forcing strength back into her stance.
Looking directly at the entity, she smiled—cold, lethal.
"Start your reverse counting of death," she said calmly.
The entity growled, chains rattling violently.
Marcelline didn't flinch.
The war had begun.
And this time—
She wasn't backing down.
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Author's Note 💋✨
Oh hello, habibies!! 😏💖
Did you enjoy watching Elli play big sister-slash-nightmare exterminator tonight? Or maybe you were just spying on her spying—don't worry, I won't tell… unless you beg for it. 😈
If this chapter made your heart race, your palms sweat, or you just want to fangirl/fanboy a little over Marcelline's devilish aura and those glowing golden eyes… I see you.
Show some love, habibies—: vote, add the book to your collection, comment your spicy thoughts, or just whisper sweet nothings to me in the comments. I promise I'll read every single one with the same mischievous grin as Marcelline when she sees a human thinking they can hide from her. 😏💖
And hey—next chapter is coming… and trust me, it's going to be even juicier, darker, and dangerously fun.
Stay wicked. Stay dramatic. Stay obsessed.
😘❤️
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