The morning began with a jarring, high-pitched hum that tore through the quiet sanctity of the master bedroom. It was not a sound produced by any electronic alarm, but rather the internal frequency of the ward system screaming in protest. Fang was out of bed before Ren had even fully opened his eyes, his movements sharp and instinctual. The air in the room felt ionized, smelling faintly of ozone and charred earth.
"The garden wards," Fang said, his voice taut as he grabbed his coat. "They are being bypassed. Something is forcing its way through the perimeter."
Ren joined him instantly, already reaching out with his own senses to tether into the house's protective network. He felt the ripple of distress moving through the garden, a cold, jagged sensation that mirrored the entity they had tracked in the archive.
