In the aftermath of rampage and fire, only the echoes remained.
Dean Godsthorn reappeared before the sealed gates of the central core—his long white coat and hair fluttering gently despite the still air.
Behind him, the shimmer of recently displaced space slowly faded, it's almost nonexistent presence reminding him that Veyra had managed to escape.
The mallet and needle-like tools still rested in his hands, both now dark and inert. Their work had been done.
He took one last look at the massive vault door. Now restored and radiating gentle waves of energy, it pulsed with stability.
The repair wasn't complete—not entirely.
But it would hold.
He placed one hand on the seal, closed his eyes, and offered it a stream of pure essence. Not as an attack, not as an anchor, but as recognition. A final command.
"Return to slumber."
The runes flared one last time before receding into stillness. The danger to the heart of the academy had passed—for now.
