The transition from the cool, crisp air of the terrace to the stifling heat of the living room was jarring. Gillian felt the shift immediately, his skin prickling as the residual curse energy clinging to the manor walls reacted to his arrival. It was a dense, suffocating atmosphere, heavy with the scent of old dust and the metallic tang of something decaying. He walked toward the center of the room, his movements slow and deliberate, while Ghea trailed behind him like a quiet, observant shadow. The silence of the manor felt amplified tonight, a heavy pressure against the eardrums that made every heartbeat sound like a drum.
"Stay there," Gillian commanded, his voice tight with suppressed agitation. He did not turn to look at her, his focus entirely on the gnawing sensation in his chest.
