“I’m going to send out a call,” Astral said, turning her attention to the present situation. Warning them was only a courtesy.

She’d been bombarded with panicked emotional energy since her arrival. Their staff’s traumatic pulsing had increased substantially since nightfall. Her patience was wearing thin. Each new bombardment called to demons lurking outside of the shields, drawing more as the night progressed.

Demons were not dumb, unevolved, animals. Demons were the opposite of what the joint political and military propaganda implied. After all, the truth hurt the military’s reputation and made their leaders, in rank and above, look every bit as ineffective as they were.

The Nation’s morale would break if the people knew just how bad the situation was.

Astral figured that if the current status quo was maintained, she was walking among the last generation of free Humans. It was a toss up if the demons would keep enough humans alive to feed on, or if they’d go for a complete eradication as per the old war. In the end, it didn’t matter, she’d do her best to end this new demonic incursion, even if she was alone in doing so.

Routine patrols would have to be set up along the outer perimeter of the shield. She’d bring it up with Damien later. The sergeant was unlikely to appreciate orders from a teenager.

She’d secure the shield interior first, ensuring that there were no demonic entities hidden on campus. It was unlikely she’d find anything after some thirty years after the initial installation. Demons were clever, calculating, manipulative, and, save for newly reborn, had the patience of a saint. It was not impossible to have an older demon lurking on campus, if it chose when it fed and who it fed on, instead of succumbing to primitive urges.

“You sent a call out earlier, no? Our people here are transitioning to civies, right Noland?” Damien threw his head back to glance at the sergeant before quickly returning his attention to the road. This was a warning not to re-traumatize their staff. Did he forget the purpose of the Hunter’s Pulse? Could he not feel the demons lurking just beyond the shield? Could he not feel the emotional spikes from the transitioning EMI?

Astral furrowed her brows. The idea of retiring from Hunting was an oxymoron. These retiring Hunters were liabilities, not only to themselves, but to whichever community they called home.

However deeply she felt that becoming a Hunter had to be a choice, the truth was Hunting was a calling, a curse, a life-sentence until the last demon fell. Retiring was a fool’s errand, an impossibility in this age where Humanity was rapidly losing ground to the demonic incursion.

The aspiring-retiree’s erratic panicked calls beating on her psyche told her too much of the quality of their training, predicting their limited short-term success at future retirement. These retiring-hunters had no control over their Pulse, over their demon call. If they bothered the learn the fundamental of their talents, they might have stood a chance.

Where they not getting the information they needed? Or was it willful ignorance?

Astral worried that the full might of the E.M.I. might not be worth much at all, leaving her to fight the G.C. demon on her own… eventually, when Dezmond lost enough Hunters, and too many civilians.

She shut her eyes against her frustration, dulling the swelling of emotions that would have spiked a call without a targeted purpose. She rubbed her temples, soothing her frustration.

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“Yes, sir,” Noland replied.

It didn’t matter what they said, she had a job to do, and dancing around snowflakes made her an ineffective weapon.

She was sure that her father, Alexander, had nothing but good intentions when he designed the program. His good intentions were going to end in demolishing communities full of Hunters too incompetent to fight back.

Their purpose was inescapable; pretending otherwise was cruel.

“Needs to be done,” Astral said, her tone cold.

She took a deep breath, swallowing her frustration. She pulled her awareness inward, bringing herself to her metaphysical center.

The impossible vastness of eternity extended in all directions. Overhead, the twilight sparkles of the souls sang in soothing melodic chimes, each singing their own song that harmonized with each other, transforming the song into a heavenly orchestra.

Between herself and the sky, a golden dome encased the immediate area, visually confirming the active presence of Damien’s demon shields.

Black statues of herself cupped glowing crystalline stars in their hands, waiting patiently for Astral to claim their offering. Save for a handful of statues who appeared younger than her, Astral had the impression that for the most part her statues, the representation of her choices, were aging with her.

Save for one. The one that scared her the most. The one she struggled to ignore. That statue was older and held a domineering powerful presence about her. Astral found it difficult to refuse her offering.

All of the other statues may have held some of Omega’s corrupt Will, but in this one statue, she was sure it was Omega itself, having taken control over Astral’s body. This statue was a reminder of her inevitable fate.

Over the past eight years, the statues retained their exquisite details, trapped in time, anchored only by Astral’s awareness of the world outside of this place between worlds.

At her feet, was an eternal black pool, infinitely deep and infinitely expansive. Waves crashed in the distance, smashing against her resolute figures, the psychic effect of panicked Hunters desperate for retirement. Gentler waves ebbed and flowed, pushing and pulling against the tide of emotionally compromised aspiring retirees.

This panic meant Astral had to put more energy into her call. If she got the timing wrong, her call could come out as a scream, summoning all sorts of creatures beyond human comprehension to her location.

There was no point in finding a quieter area. There was no escape from the Hunters’ emotional outbursts. There was no escape from the false promises of her statues. She remained where she was, as she often did, and focused her rage, frustration, and despair into her call.

From her person, she released the energy, pushing it out from herself into the world between worlds with slow intentional precision. A low wave rolled from her into the vast nothingness beyond.

Pillars of light shot up from the retreating wave, signaling the presence of the Hunters nearby. The magic trapped within the concentric rings of the Academy’s layout sparkled with renewed life. Hazel trees burst into brilliant blues and purples in fiery fluorescents, lining the perimeter of the golden barrier. Their roots ran deep into the clear black pool, promising a clear vision of anything lurking in the hidden depths of the Academy grounds.

Good. This was all good. Their initial hypothesis was turning out to be true: The Academy had a practical foundation in magic. The question now was what was the intent behind such a complex system.

She peered into the depths of the pool, watching for shadows swimming among the roots of the hazel trees. From her feet, she poured herself into the pool, emerging on the other side fully formed.

The glowing lights of the Hunters in the area transformed into schools of sparkling silver fish within her black pool. Her uncle’s dull multi-colored fish swam around her, anticipating her movements, her needs. He was ready and willing to offer himself as an extension of her will. The sergeant’s cluster of fish swam behind her.

On this side, the golden dome didn’t exist, instead the network of interwoven roots stretched into the sky, drinking from a distant source that glowed a soft pale light far into the depths.

The presence of the hazel roots reassured Astral of the general magical potency at the Academy. She’d have to invest very little energy in executing any of her spells. However, the presence of such deep roots, lead to more questions, but that’s not what she was here for.

Her initial call did nothing to reveal any demonic activity within the shields. This was good news. The shields prevented demons from entering the campus grounds, protecting the hundreds of thousands of students and staff who called this place home nine months out of the year.