The power flickered just after midnight.
One moment the chandelier above the dining table was casting steady golden light across the room; the next it stuttered once, twice, then died completely.
The only illumination left was the fire in the hearth and the faint glow of battery-powered lanterns the brothers had already set out—practical, prepared, as though they had known this was coming.
Fukky stood in the sudden dimness, arms wrapped around herself, feeling the temperature drop almost immediately.
Outside the tall windows the blizzard had thickened into a howling white wall; she could no longer see the trees, only swirling snow pressing against the glass like it wanted to get inside.
Augustine appeared beside her with a thick wool blanket.
He draped it over her shoulders without a
