Night in Edrin Hollow did not become fully dark. Lamps burned outside homes, their light catching on stone and wood, and the ward stones along the perimeter gave off a faint, steady glow that provided a sense of boundary even in the fading visibility.
It should have been comforting.
Kael found that it wasn't.
He woke before any alarm, not from a sound but from a change, a subtle shift that pressed against his awareness like a hand brushing the edge of his mind. The air in the room felt thinner than it had an hour ago, and the distant hum of the ward ring seemed uneven, as if its rhythm had skipped.
Darian stirred across from him, blinking sleep from his eyes. "You feel that," he whispered, not quite a question.
Lyra sat up immediately, hair disheveled, her notebooks clutched as though she'd fallen asleep with them beside her. Seraphine was already awake, sitting upright with calm posture, her gaze fixed toward the small window.
Outside, the settlement was quiet. Too quiet.
Then, faintly, a chime rang from the command point bell.
Not the deep assembly call. Not the morning bell. A short, sharp signal used for alerts.
They rose quickly, packing minimal gear as they moved. In the corridor, other students stepped out, faces tense and uncertain. An instructor's voice cut through the murmur, directing teams to the courtyard.
Marrow stood near the bell, cloak fastened, eyes scanning the settlement edge. "Western perimeter," he said. "One of the stabilizer points flickered. We do not assume breach, but we treat it as possible."
A few students swallowed visibly.
"This is still not a combat deployment," Marrow continued, voice steady. "Your role is to assist with evacuation and to support staff. You will not chase anything into the hills. You will not separate."
They moved in a controlled line toward the west. Lamps lit the main path, but the edges of the settlement blurred into shadow, and beyond the ward ring the hills were a black mass against a slightly lighter sky.
Kael felt the pull stronger now, like a tide that had risen overnight.
The weak ward stone flickered in the distance. Its glow dipped, then steadied, then dipped again, as if it were breathing irregularly.
The supervising instructor from earlier crouched near the stone, one hand held out to feel the flow without touching. Another staff member checked the stabilizer stakes, and a third looked into the darkness beyond the ring, eyes narrowed.
"It's thinning," the supervisor said. "Not broken. But thinning."
Lyra stepped closer, stopping herself at the instructor's warning glance. "The stabilizer is intact," she said, voice controlled but urgent. "So the strain increased."
Darian's fingers flexed, earth magic restless beneath his skin. "If the strain increased, that means something pulled harder."
Kael didn't activate Law Observation yet, but his eyes tracked the ward stone's faintly shifting glow. Even to normal sight, the runes looked less defined than they should.
A sound came from beyond the ring. Soft, like brush against grass.
Then another.
The instructor holding the perimeter raised a hand, signaling for silence.
Kael's breath slowed. He felt the group behind him tense, and he knew they were all listening for something they could name. The problem with the hills was that they held too many unknowns.
A shape moved at the edge of the ward ring, close enough that the ward glow outlined it faintly. It was low to the ground, moving on four limbs, its outline wrong in the way wild magic often made things wrong. Too many joints. A head slightly too long. Eyes reflecting lamplight like glass.
A minor beast.
Not the kind that tore through walls, but the kind that slipped through cracks when wards weakened.
The ward stone flickered again, and the beast stepped forward.
It didn't cross cleanly. The ward resisted, a shimmering pressure pushing against its body, but the beast forced itself through with a wet, strained motion, as though moving through thick water.
The supervising instructor swore under her breath. "Breach confirmed. Contain. Do not pursue."
Two staff members moved immediately, casting a binding net of mana that snapped outward and pinned the creature in place. It writhed, snarling, but it was already trapped.
Relief should have followed.
It didn't.
Because the brush rustled again, farther down the perimeter, and then another ward stone flickered faintly—less severely, but enough to show the ring was under strain across a wider span than one point.
"Multiple pressure points," Lyra whispered, eyes wide.
Marrow's voice remained even, but Kael heard the slight tightening beneath it. "Students, assist evacuation on the west street. Staff will reinforce the ring."
Darian glanced at Kael. "We're moving people."
Kael nodded, and they turned into the settlement, moving quickly but not running. The west street held several homes clustered close together, and villagers were already emerging, faces tense, carrying children and bundles as if they had rehearsed this fear before.
A woman stepped into the road, clutching a lantern. "Is it happening again," she demanded, voice tight. "Are the wards failing again."
"It's under control," Seraphine said calmly, stepping forward with the confidence of someone used to being listened to. "But you should move toward the center. Stay together."
The woman hesitated, then nodded, the shape of panic easing slightly in her face as she turned to call others.
Darian helped an older man lift a heavy sack onto a cart. Lyra guided a group of children along the path, her usual intensity redirected into careful clarity. Kael moved among them, watching for anything that didn't belong—movement at the edge, flickers of ward light, signs of panic spreading faster than the instructors could contain.
He sensed the next problem before anyone shouted.
A ward flicker far enough down the street that only a faint dimming touched the lamp glow. The air tightened, and Kael felt the pull shift, redirecting like a current finding a new opening.
A child near the edge of the group pointed toward the fence line. "There," she whispered.
Kael saw it—a second minor beast, smaller than the first, slipping through a weak point where the ward ring ran behind a row of storage sheds. It moved fast, hugging shadow, drawn toward the scent of people and light.
A staff member was too far to reach it quickly.
Darian tensed, instinctively stepping forward. "I can—"
"Don't throw earth at it," Kael said quickly, keeping his voice low. "The ward's already unstable. You'll shake the structure."
Darian's gaze snapped to him. "Then what."
Kael's mind raced. The beast was small, but if it panicked a crowd, people could get hurt even without claws ever touching them.
He let Law Observation rise, sharper this time, the familiar ache blooming behind his eyes. The world narrowed, and the ward line behind the sheds revealed itself as a thin, strained lattice. The weak point was visible, a seam where the ward's structure had frayed.
The beast moved along that seam.
Kael saw the tension line in the ward, saw how it would react if struck by magic, and understood the risk instantly. If someone cast carelessly, the ward could tear further and let more through.
He didn't have time for careful.
"Seraphine," he said, voice controlled, "anchor the crowd. Keep them moving, no panic."
Seraphine nodded, stepping forward to speak to the villagers in a calm, clear tone that held attention without rising into command.
Kael turned to Lyra. "Tell the nearest instructor we have a breach point behind the sheds. Not the main stone. The seam."
Lyra's eyes widened, but she didn't argue. She moved quickly, weaving through people toward the staff cluster.
Darian remained beside Kael, tense. "And we do what."
Kael watched the beast's structure as it moved. It wasn't built for stability. It was a knot of hungry mana wrapped around instinct, held together by a crude internal pattern.
If he could disrupt it without striking the ward—
He stepped toward the fence line, careful not to draw the villagers' attention. Darian followed half a step behind, ready to react if Kael faltered.
Kael kept Law Observation focused narrowly on the beast and its mana pattern. He didn't need to see everything; he needed one seam.
The beast lunged toward a gap between sheds.
Kael moved with it, reaching the point where the beast's internal pattern exposed itself briefly—an imbalance at the shoulder joint where mana threaded too tightly.
He didn't cast a spell. He didn't push mana.
He pressed his fingertips against the air just as the beast passed, directing his intent toward the seam the way he had done with the ward lattice.
The beast's pattern shuddered.
It didn't explode. It didn't release a burst of magic. It simply collapsed inward, the crude knot unraveling into faint sparks that dissipated before they could strike the ward.
Kael stepped back immediately, his head throbbing sharply.
Darian stared at the empty space where the creature had been. "You—" he began, then stopped, because there was no safe way to finish that sentence here.
A staff instructor arrived moments later, guided by Lyra, and scanned the area with a swift, professional glance. "Good," the instructor said, noticing the lack of damage. "You prevented a panic. Back to the center."
Kael nodded, letting Darian guide him away as the ache behind his eyes dulled from sharp pain to a heavy pulse. He kept his face calm, even as his vision threatened to blur for a heartbeat.
The rest of the night passed in controlled tension. The staff reinforced the weakest stones, and the ward ring steadied again, though its glow remained faintly uneven. No further beasts breached, and the villagers returned to their homes in slow, careful waves.
Near dawn, when the lamps burned low and the air cooled again, Marrow gathered the student teams briefly.
"You responded appropriately," he said, voice level. "Remember this. The field rewards calm and punishes recklessness. Tomorrow we begin inspection of the ridge. The source will not remain contained by temporary stakes forever."
Kael listened without lifting his gaze too high. He could feel eyes on him—Lyra's curiosity sharpened, Darian's guarded concern, Seraphine's quiet assessment.
He didn't give them anything more than a neutral expression.
When they returned to their quarters, Kael sat for a long moment before lying down, letting his breathing settle. His head still ached, but beneath the pain was something else: clarity.
His ability wasn't just useful.
It was necessary.
And if the ward ring failed again, "necessary" might stop being enough.