Inside the surveillance room, Russel stood beside the same redhead who had appeared unannounced that morning.
Before them, nine screens flickered—each one showing a live feed of students who had just entered their respective domes.
The extra one was reserved for any emergency.
Lancelot smirked as he turned toward the man standing quietly in the corner, eyes closed in deep concentration. "Quite the unique skill you've got there, Sir Bowman."
The man didn't reply, only offered a faint smile. His focus remained steady, his 'eyes'—the magical projections—watching the students and feeding the images to the screens in front of them.
They were currently stationed on the mainland, roughly five rootmiles away from the island.
Watching the dome's shimmering outline, Lancelot asked, "How strong are these barriers?"
