The high-frequency whine of the containment system intensified, a sound that didn't just hurt the ears; it vibrated in the marrow of one's bones. Principal Vane and the Board of Trustees were huddled under the mahogany table, their expensive suits collecting dust—a sight Marcus found particularly satisfying even amidst the impending structural collapse.
"Marcus," Samantha barked, her eyes scanning the room for the quickest exit route to the AV wing. "Keep them alive. If the pressure peaks, the humans' eardrums will pop before the threshold kids even start to bruise. Callum, the cellar is your domain. Kai, the roof. Move!"
The quartet didn't just move; they blurred. To the humans under the table, it looked like the air itself had rippled.
