The spiritual tremor hadn't just been a ripple; it was a rupture. As Alistair hurried a pale Esther into the safety of the mana-shielded manor, Priscilla remained on the porch. She closed her eyes, centering her breath in the way of the Ethereal Flow. She wasn't looking for heat or movement; she was looking for the absence of life.
In the valley below, a village that should have been humming with the evening chores of farmers was deathly silent. A thick, ash-colored fog was rolling in, swallowing the light of the Solar-Drakes.
"Psychological warfare," Priscilla thought, her gi fluttering in the cold wind. "They aren't killing the body yet. They are suppressing the ego, turning the soul into a vacuum."
Suddenly, the silence was broken by the rhythmic clack-clack of boots on stone and the sizzling sound of high-frequency blades.
Four figures plummeted from the sky, landing in the yard with practiced, military precision. They weren't Severans, and they didn't wear the crest of the Unified Grid. They wore tactical black fatigues reinforced with Mana-Thread, their faces grim and smeared with war paint.
"Circle up!" a young man with sharp, lupine eyes shouted. "The Shadow-Forms are feeding! Liam, Ezra—flanks! Jennie, stabilize the barrier!"
Priscilla watched, intrigued. These weren't soldiers; they were specialists. Liam, a tall man with a heavy build, shifted his weight, his muscles bulging as a low growl escaped his throat—a Lycan-hybrid. Ezra, leaner and twitching with kinetic energy, held two daggers that hummed with a silver light. Jennie, a woman with violet-streaked hair, began tracing glowing runes in the air, her brow furrowed in concentration.
They didn't see Priscilla on the darkened porch. They were focused on the three Shadow-Forms—featureless, oily humanoids—that had just drifted over the estate's wall.
The Shadow-Forms lunged. They moved with a sickening, non-linear twitch, bypassing physical distance. Liam roared, his hands elongating into claws as he swiped at the air, but his strikes passed through the shadows like they were smoke.
"Dammit!" Liam spat, a bit of blood on his lip. "They're phase-locked! Jennie, I need a tether!"
"I'm trying!" Jennie yelled, her fingers glowing. "But the poverty-grade mana we're using can't hold them!"
Priscilla stepped off the porch, her movements fluid and silent. She didn't draw a weapon. She simply walked into the fray, her hands held low.
"You're fighting the form," Priscilla said, her voice calm and melodic. "You need to fight the intent."
The four scouts jumped, startled. "Who are you? Get back inside!" the fourth scout, Noah, shouted. He was the leader, carrying a heavy broadsword etched with suppression runes. "These things eat souls like yours for breakfast!"
"Watch," Priscilla whispered.
As a Shadow-Form lunged at her, she didn't dodge. She stepped into the strike, performing a Palm-Strike of the Void. She didn't hit the shadow; she pushed her own spiritual energy into the vacuum where the shadow's heart should be.
BOOM.
The Shadow-Form didn't just dissipate; it shattered into white light.
The scouts stood frozen for a split second before Noah snapped back to reality. "Whatever you just did, do it again! Ezra, Marlene, Grace—form the Diamond!"
Three more scouts—Marlene, a woman with eyes like cold flint; Grace, who moved with the grace of a dancer; and Xylia, who seemed to be whispering to the very wind—dropped from the roof.
"You're the resident?" Xylia asked, her voice airy as she channeled a gust of wind to knock a shadow back. "You've got a hell of a kick for a civilian."
"I've had practice," Priscilla said, her baddie smirk returning.
For the next ten minutes, the yard became a ballet of violence. Priscilla moved between them, teaching as she fought. She showed Liam how to coat his claws in a thin layer of spirit-pressure so he could actually grab the shadows. She showed Jennie how to simplify her runes to increase their output.
By the time the last Shadow-Form dissolved into ash, the scouts were breathing hard, looking at Priscilla with a mixture of suspicion and profound respect.
"Who are you?" Noah asked, wiping sweat from his forehead. He looked at her simple gi, then at the manor, then at her scarred temple port. He didn't recognize her as the Sovereign—to him, she just looked like a high-level martial artist living in a nice house.
"Just a student of the world," Priscilla said, helping Grace up. "And who are you? You don't look like the local militia."
Liam laughed, a rough, barking sound. "Local militia? We're the 'Scholarship Trash' from The Obsidian Aegis Academy. We're the ones they send into the pits to do the dirty work for the rich kids who can't cast a spark without a textbook."
"An elite academy?" Priscilla asked, her interest piqued. "In the mountains?"
"Hidden," Jennie said, her eyes narrowing. "We're the bodyguards. We're all from the slums or the labor camps—werewolves, witches, hybrids. They train us to be the ultimate combatants, then they pair us with wealthy, untrained heirs who treat us like disposable shields."
"You've got the spirit for it," Noah said, stepping closer. "Actually, I've never seen anyone use the Ethereal Flow like that without a focus-crystal. You're around our age—twenty-four, maybe twenty-five?"
"Twenty-six," Priscilla lied smoothly, leaning into her role.
"Look," Marlene said, crossing her arms. "The Academy is recruiting. Usually, they scout the slums, but a talent like yours? If you enroll as a 'Guardian Student,' you get access to the Grand Library of Psyche and Spirit. It's the only place with the ancient scrolls on how to fight these Void-Eaters."
Priscilla looked at Aurelius, who had watched the whole thing from the shadows. The dragon gave a slow, approving blink.
"The Academy is where the Hollowed are originating, Mother," Cypher chirped in her mind. "The wealthy peers are the ones being brainwashed."
Priscilla looked back at the scouts—Noah, Liam, Ezra, Jennie, Xylia, Marlene, and Grace. They were her kind of people: gritty, talented, and tired of being used as pawns.
"Enroll, huh?" Priscilla said, her baddie smirk widening. "Being a bodyguard for a spoiled brat sounds like a step down for me. But that library... that sounds like exactly what I need."
"We'll vouch for you," Grace said, smiling. "We could use someone who actually knows how to hit a shadow. We're heading back tonight. You coming?"
Priscilla looked at the manor where Esther and Alistair were safe. She looked at the horizon where the gray fog was still growing.
"I'll need to pack my bags," Priscilla said. "And my 'pet' stays with me."
"A pet? Sure," Noah laughed, not seeing the massive Chimera behind the trees. "As long as it doesn't bite the Dean."
"Oh, he might," Priscilla thought, walking toward the house to tell Silas she was going undercover. "He definitely might."