In the darkness, only a few hundred feet past where Raven's group sat laughing and bickering under the soft flicker of firelight, the forest twisted into shadows.
Hidden in those shadows, the professors stood—cloaks drawn tight, expressions anything but calm.
Professor Yulenne removed her glasses with practiced grace and rubbed the lenses with a cloth, though her hands trembled just slightly.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," muttered a younger man—Professor Callen, his face flushed with fury. "She was supposed to die. Siris was dead. We saw her dead. We confirmed and reported that she was dead."
"Well," another muttered, voice low and bitter, "apparently she got better."
"Not just her," added Professor Larth, an older, sharp-eyed man who usually taught magical beast theory. "Raven's alive. His squad is intact. And worse—they're thriving. Like some backwater family picnic."
Yulenne said nothing, staring toward the faint glow of the fire.
