The eastern outskirts of Academy grounds, where guest housing transitioned into wooded training areas, held the kind of isolation that made witnesses inconvenient and screams irrelevant.
Riyan stood in the shadow of ancient oak trees, his scarlet eyes tracking the distant lights of Marcus Vael's temporary residence. Serx occupied position thirty meters to his left, shield ready but not yet manifested, his presence a comforting constant in what was about to become very uncomforting work.
And Syra... Syra had appeared twenty minutes ago with expression that mixed curiosity and absolute devotion.
"Angel," she'd said, her musical voice carrying undertones of steel, "you're planning something dangerous without telling me. That's unacceptable. I'm coming with you."
