Draven's POV
Arwen sits down on the chair by my desk and looks at me with the expression she uses when she is preparing to receive something difficult. Chin level, eyes steady, hands still in her lap. She has gotten very good at receiving difficult things since she arrived at this academy. She has had considerable practice.
I sit on the edge of the desk and think about where to start.
"My grandfather encountered The Hunger once," I say. "He was twenty-two. He was tracking a rogue supernatural threat in the northern territories and the trail led him to a location he didn't have on any of his maps. A valley that felt wrong in a way he couldn't identify at first." I pause. "He described it in his journal as the feeling of standing next to something enormous that was pretending to be nothin
