It wasn’t a small sound. It shuddered through the floorboards, rattled the windows in their frames, sent a fine dust sifting down from the ceiling. The wards that had held for eighteen years didn’t just break. They screamed as they died.

Then silence.

A silence so complete it felt like the house itself was holding its breath.

The front door had been blown inward. Splintered wood lay scattered across the entrance hall, still smoking faintly. Moonlight spilled through the gaping doorway, cold and silver, touching the ruined threshold.