The mundane world did not notice when magic left it.
It never did.
The traffic lights still blinked red, yellow, green in obedient rhythm. Neon signs flickered over convenience stores. The city skyline pierced the night like polished blades. Car engines hummed. People scrolled endlessly on their glowing screens.
Nothing changed.
And yet… everything had.
Because when the King of Nacrifa summoned every soul of magical lineage back to his realm, something ancient loosened its grip on the modern world.
Something that had been sleeping beneath asphalt and concrete.
Something that had been waiting.
The house on Crestwood Lane stood empty.
It used to belong to Edward's family—used to hold arguments behind polished doors, sharp words over porcelain tea cups, and a girl who was never meant to belong.
Now it sat silent.
Dust gathered slowly across the marble floors.
Curtains swayed gently near open windows that no one remembered leaving ajar.
The air felt heavy.
Unwatched.
