For a while, all was still.
Despite the invisible spatial barrier encasing a large portion of ElderGlow Academy, there was no immediate panic.
No alarms. No swarms of enemies descending. Just a heavy quietness that blanketed the sealed section.
It was the dead of night.
Most of the students were asleep. The few who were still awake had already retreated to their dormitories under curfew.
No one yet knew that part of the academy had just been cut off from the rest of the world.
No one except those who stood at the heart of the trap.
And now… the hunters would meet the bait-setters.
Dean Godsthorn, still brimming with residual magic from his forced escape and return, stood with both hands behind his back, staring silently into the night. His fingers flexed once — just a twitch — and space bent at his will.
No theatrics.
No flash.
Just a quiet twist in the air, as if the stars blinked the wrong way.
