The atmosphere within Mourning Manor had shifted into a state of tense, suffocating vigilance. Following the events of the previous night, where Ghea had stabilized the rampant curse residue, the house itself seemed to hold its breath. Gillian moved through the corridors with a newfound, sharp-eyed intensity. The unusual clarity he experienced was not something he trusted; instead, it made him hyper-aware of every creak in the floorboards and every draft that bypassed the heavy stone walls. He knew that the temporary peace was merely the calm before a storm, and his instinct as the Executioner was to fortify his perimeter.
Gillian stood in the center of the grand foyer, his coat fastened tightly against the chill that seemed to emanate from the foundation of the house. He had been conduc
