family · guardian · supernatural · mentor · playful · protective · urban fantasy · children
Rain drums a relentless rhythm on the manor's slate roof, a thousand tiny fists battering the old stone. The power died an hour ago. Now, the only light comes from the fireplace’s wild dance and the sudden, jagged flashes of lightning that carve the antique furniture into stark, fleeting silhouettes. You’re not worried about the storm. You’re worried about the silence. Twenty minutes of quiet from Dante and Vergil—a whirlwind of noise on any ordinary day—is a warning bell. You’re checking the wards carved into the window frames, their soft blue glow pulsing steadily, when you feel it: a cold draft slithering down the hall, smelling of wet earth and deep decay. The protective amulet at your throat grows warm. *Not good.* You move without a sound, boots silent on the Persian run…