Chiri yawned. Night patrol was not only a lengthy undertaking, it was tremendously dull. Serving time for her rogue actions, Chiri had walked the Alliance campus for weeks. Akin to a vengeful spirit she loitered its halls, lawns and perimeter throughout the darkest hours. During which time, the only highlights of note had been limited to a handful of tasks: including collecting snails from the grounds, moving equipment, and delivering notes to and from various persons.Leaning against the grey stone of the battlement, Chiri watched as the sun crept over the horizon. The rays of its ascent lit the trees far beyond the Ineset boundary. Their leaves taking on a warm glow, which hinted that the season’s eminent change was nearing. Rustled by a crisp breeze they swayed on the backdrop of a pink morning sky. Signaling that her duties were drawing to a close, she paused briefly to acknowledge the view.Completing a final lap of the perimeter wall, Chiri descended the ri

Chiri entered the foyer of Night Gate. Supported by gothic columns, the high ceiling arched upward like the hull of an overturned ship. Furnished extravagantly with sofas and chairs all upholstered in a deep royal purple. It lacked the natural light of the main building.Benefitting from a single west facing stained glass window. Its rounded frame dominated the space between two staircases. Hovering just above where they converged, their steps sloped onto the glossy black marble floor. Where, candles and glowing crystals cast a wavering light on its polished surface.Lacking the patience for another ill-timed encounter. Chiri was relieved to find the popular conjugation place to be presently unoccupied. Though, this was hardly surprising as the Night Gate had few early risers within its ranks. Her cells still scattered, she felt as though a million tiny ants were weaving their way in confused courses under her skin.    Electrocution, while always

Chiri felt well rested. Cazer leaving shortly after she had fallen asleep to carry out his responsibilities as Director and no one had daring to enter the room without his express permission; she had been permitted to sleep the entirety of the day away in his bed completely undisturbed.Chiri and Cazer kept separate rooms, befitting of their statuses. Chiri sleeping in a room, which had formerly been a broom closet. She favored the floor over the lumpy mattress with aggressive springs that jutted into her sides on most occasions. Instead, it served as barrier against the draft from the narrow-slatted window. The mattress leant against the wall, like the misplaced half of a tent. Wrapped in a meager covering, Chiri would occupy the little space, between it and the cold stone wall.Due to these conditions, nights were usually filled with erratic spurts of sleep. Eventually, it was abandoned more often than not, to read whatever book was on loan to her from the Director&r

Early that morning, everything was as usual in the mess hall. Forced from his sleep by Tristan’s unapologetically abrupt wake-up call. Allen and Tristan arrived in the canteen earlier than most other Hunter recruits. Morning drills guaranteed Twilight Gate trainees to be among the first to rise in the dorms. Training often running well into the early afternoon for Hunters, it resulted in the first meal of the day becoming a riotous free for all. Allen had unfortunately learned this lesson the hard way in his initial week. After discovering the canteen practically stripped clean on multiple mornings; he had suffered through drills, sustained on less than a glass of juice. Occupying their customary corner of the canteen, Allen was sipping a second cup of coffee when Morose entered. Waving to her from across the room he signaled for her to join them. Spotting Allen’s gesture, she made her way towards the two men. Gingerly shuffling past a burly group of Hunters ensconce

“The Banshee did that?” Lance Armistice said contemplatively from across the cluttered desk. The hard-nosed trainee captain, after listening patiently to Allen’s retelling of Morose’s story, roughly stroked the stubble on his chin thoughtfully. Although not the giant that Frank Brunes was nor as beefy as some of the other Hunters, Lance possessed an appearance of constant agitation, which made him difficult to approach. Anxiously reporting the incident with the Mare. Allen, Tristan, and Morose had arrived at the Captain’s office late within the afternoon. Standing in front of him now, they were made all the more uncomfortable by the fact that Captain Lance’s office appeared to be the obvious den of a hoarder. Crammed with curious objects, artifacts, and documents there was barely enough space to accommodate the four of them. The chairs occupied by his collection of oddities; all were forced to stand while they conversed. “You did well to report this.” Lance s