Geoffry Schrank, Ph.D.

Crash. A sharp, splintering sound echoed from somewhere outside—wood snapping, stone buckling. All three froze. Heads slowly turned toward the doorway. Tavian cleared his throat. “Probably just something settling,” he offered. “Building stress. Y’know... architecture.” A pause. Then came the howl—thin, echoing, not entirely mortal. It was followed by a rumbling growl that vibrated faintly in their ribs, like something exhaling gravel.