By dawn, as the orange glow of early morning painted the sky, the forest had been combed more times than anyone could count. The search teams were exhausted and the students had been called back to their temporary base—eyes sunken, expressions grim, and the weight of unanswered questions pressing on everyone's shoulders.
Still no sign of Sylva.
That was when the supervisor made the call.
The supervisor, pale with sleepless worry, stepped away from the gathered students and pressed the phone tightly to his ear. He hesitated only a moment before dialing the emergency contact listed under Sylva's name.
It connected.
"Miss Smith?" his voice wavered as he spoke. "This is Supervisor Alton from Exeter University."
"I—I'm sorry to contact you so early. There's been an incident. Your daughter, Sylva… she's missing."
On the other end of the line, silence reigned for a moment too long. Then came Lunethra's voice—low, smooth, and unreadable.
"What do you mean she's missing?"
