The Ashford estate's ballroom had transformed into something that looked like casual elegance but hummed with the tension of a powder keg waiting for a spark. Conversations flowed like expensive wine, laughter tinkled like crystal chandeliers, and everyone seemed to be having the time of their lives.
If you ignored the way their eyes constantly darted to the shadows.
The supernatural guards stationed throughout the ballroom maintained their posts with professional precision, but something had changed in recent weeks. Hushed whispers passed between them like a secret language, their movements carrying an anticipation that made the air itself feel electric. They seemed to be preparing for something, though what exactly remained unclear to the human guests who employed them.
