The silence outside was a living entity, pressing against the Lockwood Manor like a suffocating hand. Over an hour had crawled by, punctuated only by the frantic thrumming of Elijah's heartbeat and the ragged gasps of his breath as he peeked through the gaps in the curtains. The Onis, those monstrous figures of swirling black smoke given horrifying form, stood sentinel just beyond the perimeter of the hastily erected barrier.
A dozen of them, cloaked in darkness that seemed to devour the very light around them, they were a terrifying tableau. Their armor, a dull, matte black, gleamed with an unnatural sheen, reflecting none of the moonlight that bathed the grounds in an ethereal glow. Their masks, devoid of features, held an emptiness that sent shivers down Elijah's spine. It wasn't just the lack of eyes or a nose; it was the utter absence of anything human, any spark of recognition, any sense of sentience. They were voids staring back, promising only oblivion.
