Warlock Ch 402. Stubborn
Lysandra stepped through the final layer of the barrier, the magical veil parting like warm mist before sealing behind her with a soft shimmer of silver light. The air outside shifted immediately—lighter, colder, less saturated with the mana-imbued comfort of the warlock's protected territory. Her boots crunched faintly against the gravel-lined walkway, her senses still sharpened from the conversation she had no intention of forgetting anytime soon.
She didn't look back at first.
Not until she reached the outer marker. Then she stopped.
And turned.
The mansion stood still in the morning light, its silhouette cutting sharp against the ever-shifting skyline of the magus district. Sleek walls, angled windows, hovering shield runes softly pulsing near the roofline—it looked modern, minimal, elegant.
But she knew better.
That building was a fortress.
