Far from the shining spires of the academy city, beyond the trembling glow of its walls and the hum of its mana veins, the forest lay deep and endless. The moon hung pale above the treetops, spilling its silver light through the tangled canopy, but beneath those leaves, the world was swallowed by darkness.
And there, hidden among the roots and moss, stood a cabin.
It was small, crooked, and ancient — a forgotten relic, half-rotted and covered in ivy. No one ever visited. No one even spoke of it. To every passerby, it was simply empty.
But beneath it, deep below the rotten wood and soil, the air was alive.
There, under the cabin, carved into the earth itself, was a room — round, low, and silent save for the breathing of five figures.
The stone walls were damp, the flickering bulb above them long past its prime. The faint buzz of its dying filament gave the illusion of movement, of shadow crawling.
