Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up.
—Ecclesiastes, Chapter 4, Verses 9–12
A thin mist hung over the dense forest, smearing pale patches over the heavy ink‑dark green. A peregrine falcon cruising high overhead folded its wings and dove, sliding with precise, soundless grace through the gaps in the thick canopy, alighting on the shoulder of a Black Robe Wizard and dipping its head in a tiny nod.
Black Robe and face‑erasing Mask.
This was standard gear for the First University Assistant Corps special tactical squad.
The Black Robe Wizard took out the cellphone from his robe, fingers moving with practiced ease as he tapped out a short message—Target confirmed, proceed as planned—and in moments, one reply after another flashed silently across the screen.
Received!
Received!
Received!
Received!
Received!
