"Ivy is late," I noted, checking my phone. "She said she just had to 'retreive a tactical snack'."
"She's probably trying to hex the parking meter," Rhett grunted.
The heavy oak doors at the front of the Hall groaned open. The murmuring crowd fell instantly silent.
A hush descended, heavy and suffocating.
Dean Marrow walked onto the stage.
He was a man who looked like he had been manufactured, not born. He was tall, with the kind of broad-shouldered build that suggested bespoke suits were a necessity, not a choice.His hair was silver-fox grey, perfectly coiffed. His smile was blindingly white, practiced, and entirely devoid of warmth.
He walked to the podium with the easy confidence of a predator entering a pen of sheep.
"Welcome," he said. His voice was smooth, amplified by subtle acoustics magic so that it reached every corner of the Hall without shouting. "Welcome back to Northcrest."
He paused, letting the silence maximize his presence.
"My name is Dean Marrow. And I am here to restore order."
I shivered. It was a small thing, a tiny tremor that ran down my spine, but Rhett felt it immediately. He squeezed my hand, his head turning sharply toward the stage.
"You feel it?" he whispered.
"The emptiness," I breathed. "It's... it's like looking into a vacuum."
Every supernatural being had a "hum"—a magical signature that radiated from them like body heat. Shifters felt like earth and musk. Witches felt like ozone and herbs. Vampires felt like cold marble.
Dean Marrow felt like nothing.
It was the same sensation I had felt around Commander Graves. A void. A Null.
"I know this university has been through a tumultuous time," Marrow continued, his gaze sweeping over the audience. When his eyes passed over our row, I swear they lingered for a fraction of a second too long. "The previous administration was... lax. Permissive. Tragically flawed. They allowed dangerous elements to fester. They allowed chaos to masquerade as freedom."
"He's talking about us," Kai whispered, his smile vanishing.
"We have seen the consequences of unchecked magic," Marrow went on, his voice dropping an octave, becoming grave. "We have seen students hurt. We have seen our campusthreatened. And why? Because we forgot the fundamental rule of our existence."
He leaned forward, gripping the podium.
"Magic requires containment. Power requires control."
A murmur of unease went through the crowd. Shifters shifted in their seats. A few Witches exchanged worried glances.
"To that end," Marrow said, brightening again, "I am instituting a few... modifications to campus policy. Effective immediately."
He gestured to the side of the stage. A projector screen flickered to life, displaying a list of bullet points in stark, black font.
INITIATIVE 1: THE SAFETY TASK FORCE.
INITIATIVE 2: CURFEW ENFORCEMENT.
INITIATIVE 3: THE BOND REGISTRY.
The last one hung on the screen like a threat.
"The Bond Registry," Marrow announced, as if unveiling a prize. "For too long, bonded pairs—and groups—have operated without oversight. Bond magic is potent. Volatile. And, as we have seen, potentially destructive."
"He's definitely talking about us," Rhett growled, a low vibration in his chest that I felt through our joined hands.
