The school didn't sleep that night.
Students were ushered into underground sanctuaries carved from stone and enchanted with age-old sigils. The air buzzed with fear and questions. Teachers moved like soldiers. Magic shields glimmered at every hallway turn.
And Richard paced the Grand Hall like a man possessed.
"I want every rune inspected," he barked at the council. "Every ward reinforced. Whoever breached the outer boundary didn't just sneak in—they tore a hole through space."
A professor stepped forward. "Richard, we've never seen magic like that. That thing wasn't of this world."
"I know," Richard growled, then slammed both palms onto the oak table. "And we need to find out why."Down in the shelter, Hope sat on a bench with her arms around her knees. Jessa was next to her, quietly healing a cut on her own arm. But Hope wasn't focused on the wound or the glowing bandage.
She kept glancing across the room—to where London stood by the doorway, keeping watch like a sentry.
Every few minutes, he walked the perimeter. Silent. Alert. No teacher had asked him to. No student expected it. But he did it anyway—because something had shifted in him.
He had purpose now.
Raphael approached with a ripped shirt, half-shifted into his wolf form and still bleeding from a gash across his ribs. But he didn't complain. He just sat beside London and nodded once.
"Figured you'd be up," he muttered.
London glanced at him. "You good"Nothing I haven't healed from before." Raphael gave a weak grin. "But I think someone owes me a new leather jacket."
London smirked. "Maybe Hope'll knit you one."
From the other side of the room, Hope called out, "I heard that."
Raphael chuckled. "She's got a bite. I like that."
London looked over, watching Hope laugh despite the tension. He lowered his voice. "She trusts you."
Raphael blinked. "Who?"
"Jessa. You protect her."
Raphael shrugged. "She's different. Strong, yeah—but not the kind of strong people expect. She doesn't act like she's better than anyone. Even when she is."
"Her sister doesn't like that.""Celeste?" Raphael sighed. "She's poison wrapped in silk."
They fell into a quiet rhythm, keeping watch together.
And slowly—unspoken—something formed between them. Not friendship, not yet. But respect. A soldier's bond. Two protectors, understanding their place in a world just starting to break.
---
Upstairs, Richard stood in the Great Hall staring at an old tapestry that hadn't moved in centuries. Now it shimmered.
He whispered a spell and peeled the cloth aside.
Behind it: a glowing stone wall etched with prophecy."When fire returns to flame, and blood wakes bone, the tribrid shall rise beside deathless light. One of blood. One of ash. One of betrayal."
He stared at the words long and hard.
Then, as if sensing a storm before it strikes, he whispered:
"They were never meant to meet."
---
Back in the shelter, London stood by the exit. Raphael was on one side. Hope joined them on the other.
They were not just students anymore.
They were becoming something else.
And far above them, something moved in the dark sky, invisible to the naked eye.
Watching.
Waiting.Plotting the next attack.