The council room at Gravemont was always quiet at this hour, but tonight, it breathed tension.
The room was built like a cathedral of old power, with high stone walls and arcane symbols threaded through the architecture like veins. Long banners bearing the school's crest hung in the still air.
A wide mahogany table dominated the centre, illuminated only by a chandelier filled with silver moon-oil. Its glow cast upon the table, and spread through half of the room.
The other side remained swallowed in darkness.
Not from lack of light but it was as if something was in that corner that drank it.
Commandant Draegor sat at the head of the table, fingers clasped. Across from him was Alpha Ashbourne. A map lay stretched between them, marked with red pins indicating attacks, disappearances and warnings. Lots of them.
"…and now there's word from our border scouts," Draegor was saying, his voice low, "The Syndicate we've been observing has shifted. Their movements all point to one goal,"
