"But… but this dual wolf, why are they so sure it's her?"
The headmaster smiles thinly, relieved to have survived the immediate threat of decapitation. He adjusts his cufflinks as if to say finally, a civilized question. "They aren't sure. Not yet. But the Council is... attentive. And given the recent incident during the…"
Darien's pulse spikes and he impatiently cuts him off. "What incident?"
Halric gives him a look so mild it almost qualifies as smug. "The striker."
Darien frowns. "The striker was faulty."
Halric's voice comes like a candy dipped in something poisonous. "Was it?"
The room seems to tighten. The desk's surface gleams under the fluorescent light, and Darien's reflection; jaw set, eyes rimmed in gold from Kairos simmering underneath, stares back like a wolf behind glass.
