“The Sinclair estate. In England.”
Silence fell, heavy and grim.
Seraphine closed her eyes. “That house cannot withstand magical upheaval.”
“They are the last of their line,” Hawthorne said quietly. “They have already lost one daughter. The death of the final Sinclair would end the Lunar line.”
Rowan’s jaw tightened.
“Elara,” he snapped, “cross-reference all known moon-lineage awakenings.”
“Already searching.”
“Blackwall. Prepare a Guardian escort.”
“They will be armed and ready within minutes.”
“Hawthorne, Seraphine. Initiate mortal-world containment.”
Both rose at once.
Finally, Rowan turned fully toward Mingxi, urgency sharpened to a blade.
“Councilor Shen, you will proceed to the Sinclair estate immediately.”
Mingxi bowed. “Yes, High Magister.”
“You will identify the awakened individual,” Rowan continued. “Assess their power, their control, and any connection to the corrupted woman.”
Elara added quietly, “And determine whether today marks the beginning of a larger breach.”
Blackwall’s stare was iron hard. “If the two are linked, the threat level is catastrophic.”
“I understand,” Mingxi said.
“Good,” Rowan replied. “Your portal will be prepared at the southern gate. Leave at once.”
Mingxi turned to go.
Rowan’s voice followed, quiet but grave. “Councilor Shen, be careful. The awakening was strong enough to rattle the western leyline. Whatever called out, it called loudly.”
Mingxi bowed once more and strode from the chamber.
Chapter 4
The portal released Mingxi onto cold, damp ground.
Mist drifted across the English countryside, carrying the metallic tang of blood beneath the scent of wet grass. The leyline’s resonance here was twisted. Shaken. Saturated with grief, but not the echo of the dead. Someone living had awakened. Someone in terrible pain.
A Guardian stepped toward him from behind an oak, her armor faintly glowing.
“Councilor Shen,” she whispered. “The perimeter has been compromised. The wards are failing. There are bodies everywhere.”
Mingxi nodded once. He felt it too. The wrongness was sharp and bitter, violent in its insistence.
They approached the gate. It hung crooked, one hinge shattered. The ward sigil beneath the Sinclair crest flickered weakly, as if trying to scream a warning too late. When Mingxi touched the gate, the metal jolted beneath his fingers.
Mingxi and the Guardian stepped through.
