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"Recovery?"

"Minimal."

"Residual material?"

"Possible."

"Preserve it." Rhyven says immediately.

The woman pauses. "Chief?"

He steps closer to the crystal. "Do not touch it. Do not move anything inside the depletion radius unless physically necessary. Preserve every magical object. Every weapon. Every ward marker. Every piece of equipment. Document positions before removal."

"Understood."

Rhyven continues. "Dragon patrols?"

"Active."

"Pairs?"

A pause. "No."

His expression hardens. "Change it."

"We have limited—"

"Pairs." Silence.

"Understood."

He looks toward another report. "No one moves alone. Continuous ward readings. Record every fluctuation, including those too small to trigger alarms. Rotate personnel before exhaustion. Do not allow people to assume the absence of an event means the threat is gone." The room goes very quiet at that last one. Rhyven doesn't notice. Or doesn't care. I do. We learned every one of those rules by losing someone. Gods.

Nyra steps toward the historical map. The Headmaster looks at her. "Miss Valenne." She puts the copied route beside the current Elarion map.

No preamble.

"Historically, Elarion was next."

One of the Council members stiffens. "We are aware."

Of course you are.

Nyra ignores the irritation in my face. "Southern settlements first." She points. "Then Tiravell."

A representative from another family asks: "How long between them?"

"Historically?"

"Yes."

"Three days." The room changes.

Someone immediately says: "Send warning to Tiravell."

"Already done." My father answers. Good. At least they're learning.

"Does that mean Tiravell is next?" Another representative asks.