Chapter 332: The Advent of the Sacred Realm

The air over the Yale estate was heavy with the ghosts of memory and the stench of old fire. Brock Yale walked through the skeletal remains of his ancestral home, his footsteps echoing in the unnatural silence. The moon cast long, distorted shadows that danced like specters among the collapsed walls and charred timbers. This was a graveyard, and he was its sole mourner and its avenging angel. There, in the center of what was once the grand courtyard, stood Simon Juggins. He wasn't alone. To...