Chapter 70: The Whispers of the Storm

The first sign of the storm was the air. It hung thick and heavy over New Haven, like an unspoken warning that something unnatural was coming. The clouds had rolled in the night before, dark and brooding, with a hint of green that set even the most seasoned townsfolk on edge. By morning, the horizon was a wall of swirling blackness, an ominous sight that seemed alive with malice.

George stood on the mansion's balcony, staring out at the horizon. His arms rested on the wooden railing, his expression pensive. Behind him, Lucy joined him, her growing concerns reflected in her furrowed brow.

"Looks bad," Lucy said, her voice steady despite the unease.

George nodded, not taking his eyes off the storm. "It's not just a bad storm," he muttered. "It feels... wrong."

Lucy shivered and wrapped her arms around herself, the weight of his words sinking in. "You think it's connected to the vampires? Or something new?"