Luna Academy smelled wrong.
Not the usual mix of children's energy and educational supplies. Something else underneath—copper and ozone. The scent of dimensional rifts forming. Reality tearing at the edges while seventeen children played in what should have been a protected sanctuary.
I ran through the Academy courtyard following the alarm Marcus had triggered. Behind me, Alexander's Alpha presence filled the space with protective tension. But we were too late to prevent what was already beginning.
The dimensional tear opened above the Academy's eastern wing. Small at first—maybe three feet across. Through it, I could see that familiar gray wasteland of the hunger world. And shapes moving through the rift. Entities wearing human masks but failing to hide what they really were.
"Scarlett," Dr. Morrison called from the Academy entrance, her voice tight with controlled panic, "the children are in the main training hall. All seventeen of them."
