Midnight draped itself over Blackthorn like a shroud.
The mansion slept beneath its silver canopy, every window dim, every flame guttered to a whisper. Only one light still burned — deep within the east wing, behind the closed doors of Kael's study.
Kael stood before the grand mirror, his reflection blurred by the wavering glow of candlelight. His coat hung loosely over his frame, the air around him rippling faintly with heat that did not belong to this realm. He looked almost human — almost — but the shadow behind his eyes said otherwise.
The pull had begun hours ago. That silent, ancient call from the other side of the Veil. It had grown louder with every breath, crawling through his veins, coiling around his thoughts until resistance felt like drowning. He knew what it meant. The balance was fracturing again.
He could not risk the others knowing. Not Nerine.
