A hush falls over the estate’s courtyard the moment I step beyond the tall archway, half-suspecting each carved column is watching my every move. Tonight’s sky is a canopy of ink-blue, dotted with stars that seem oddly indifferent to the solemn gathering below. There is no raucous feast now, no sly murmurs within candlelit corridors, just a stark circle of light cast by towering torches, illuminating robed figures who have come to bear witness to an unholy vow.
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I hesitate at the courtyard’s threshold, my stomach churning. Damien stands a few paces ahead, his posture commanding, as though his presence alone staves off the night’s shadows. One by one, they file in, elders draped in dark velvets, faces etched with age and aura. Their authority hangs in the air, heavy as a thundercloud on
