THE HUNTERS OF THE GUARDIANS

Snow fell earlier than usual in Saint Hiller.

Crystals of ice twirled in the air like shards of glass, glinting under the faint glow of lanterns scattered around the castle grounds. Snow covered every inch of earth, swallowing the colors of grass, stone, and rooftops beneath a thick white blanket. The old towers of the academy stood tall like silent giants, majestic yet strangely desolate amid the endless snowfall. The courtyards, usually bustling with students and laughter, lay deserted, leaving only traces of footsteps quickly erased by the drifting flakes. The air felt dead, cold enough to seep into the bones. Silence hung heavy, as if the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something inevitable.