Chapitre 195: Safe Space

In the Goth quarters of the Salem Hall dormitory, the lights were dim and the torches had gone out over the regency archways. The young witches of the academy had retired for the evening and a spooky calm reigned over the mystical corridors. It was nearly midnight at the Twelfth roaming hour and only patrols of the [Sentinel Corps] could be seen in fields and on sidewalks, marshalling the island's borders.

At this ungodly hour of night, whispers of a group noised its way out of the hall's forlorn cafeteria. It was the sound of bubbly laughter. It was Rafel and his friends, having a late night sup in the time after the tournament of dragons—which ended hours ago. A bawdy male voice broke the eerie quiet of the Corynthian vestibules asunder. And a murder-herd of wraiths flying over the isle at that moment turned to one another to share a look.