Celeste Vance had perfected the art of walking without actually being present.
Her body moved in flawless synchronization with the other Argent Sentinels, their white and silver uniforms catching the last rays of the setting sun like a squadron of particularly well-dressed soldiers. Their formation was textbook. A perfect wedge, with Professor Anya Petrova at the apex, her heels striking the pavement with the regularity of a metronome. Click. Click. Click.
Each step was a countdown. To what, Celeste wasn't entirely sure. Perhaps to the moment she finally lost her mind from boredom.
"The Onyx Hounds are scavengers." Professor Petrova's voice sliced through the evening air like one of her crystalline blades. She didn't turn to address them. She didn't need to. Her words carried the weight of absolute authority. "They lack the breeding, the training, and the discipline to compete with us on equal footing. They rely on tricks. Deception. Chaos."
