The manor lay in slumber.

Moonlight poured through the cathedral windows, pale and holy, casting ghostly patterns against the cold stone walls. The storm had passed, leaving only the sound of slow-burning candles and the distant rustling of night creatures beyond the estate’s iron gates. But within—within, all was still.

The angel’s voice wove through the corridors, soft as snowfall, rich as golden ichor. A siren’s lullaby, but not one meant to lure—no, this was different. It was a hymn of peace, of untouched divinity. The kind that seeped into the bones, smoothing over restless thoughts, drawing even the most wicked into the embrace of undisturbed slumber.

Everyone in the manor slept. The restless. The weary. The innocent. The sinners. All were held in the grasp of that voice, in the weight of something pure enough to soothe the damned.

All but one.

Sebastian Michaelis moved through the darkness, his steps soundless on marble floors. The hymn did not touch him. It never did. The melody that softened even the cruelest of hearts was nothing but a distant hum in his ears, a sound heard but never felt.

He did not sleep. He could not.

A demon had no need for such a luxury. Instead, he wandered. Through corridors veiled in shadow, through halls where paintings of long-dead ancestors stared down in silent judgment. He lingered in doorways, watching the rise and fall of breathing chests, listening to the deep, undisturbed sighs of those lost in dreamless sleep.

They did not know the things that lurked beyond the gates. The creatures that slithered through the fog-drenched forests. The things with hollow eyes and jagged teeth, drawn to the warmth of a home untouched by filth.

They did not know because the angel’s song kept them safe.

And because he—the creature that had no place beneath such holy protection—stood guard.

A demon, restless and wakeful, wandering the quiet halls of a house wrapped in Heaven’s lullaby.