The sky didn't just tear—it shattered. Celestial cracks spiderwebbed across the clouds, each one oozing with light that pulsed like a heartbeat. Constellations unraveled in real time above Irasios Academy, flickering like faulty stars on a dying screen. Everyone could feel it in their marrow: the story was bleeding.
The porcelain-masked figure didn't flinch. Instead, they raised their hand, and with a flick of their fingers, reality twisted.
Students vanished. Not by teleportation—but by erasure. They blinked out of existence like words deleted from a sentence, leaving no sound, no magical residue, no memory. Only Verena and her group remained, shielded by some unseen force—maybe the thirteenth seal's protection, maybe something deeper.
"Okay, I'm officially done pretending this is normal," Penelope muttered, gripping her sword tighter. "Are we allowed to kill moon-faced drama ghosts?"
