Nathan immediately went to the window, but the thick, triple-paned glass was sealed tight against the Aspen blizzard.

Outside, the wind screamed, throwing heavy sheets of white snow against the glass.

Nathan cursed under his breath, turning back to the room’s independent air intake valve.

“Claire built a secondary filtration unit in here,” he muttered, his fingers tearing at a small wall panel near the floor.

He pulled a metallic lever, and a low hum started beneath our feet.

The sweet smell began to dissipate from the nursery, replaced by the sharp, cold scent of filtered outdoor air.

“Stay here,” Nathan told the girls, his hand resting on Lily’s head for a brief second.

“Is mommy’s house angry?” Sophie asked, her voice trembling.

“No, sweetheart,” I said, kneeling beside them. “The house is going to take care of us.”

I stood up and followed Nathan back toward the hallway door.

Through the glass pane of the door, we could see the corridor filling with a thin, hazy mist.

Suddenly, every screen in the nursery flickered from its soft nightlight setting to a bright, solid blue.