The crack didn't speak.
But it didn't need to.
Whatever was beneath the surface had already marked him.
Merlin didn't move. Just listened.
Elara hadn't lowered her spear.
And Cale… had finally stopped trying to smile.
His gaze dropped again to the vines. The edges of his shoes barely touched the line between courtyard tile and corrupted stone.
He stepped back.
Just one pace.
Enough to break the line of sight.
"I'm… going to pretend I didn't see this," he said carefully.
Merlin didn't respond.
Cale swallowed. His jaw worked once. He looked like he wanted to say something clever and then realized this wasn't the right audience.
Or the right terrain.
"I wasn't informed about anything like this," he muttered.
Still trying to sound like someone who was in the loop. Someone who belonged here.
Merlin's eyes stayed on the ground.
The vines hadn't moved again. But they hadn't stopped watching either. The subtle angle of the tips, the soft twitch in the fiber. It wasn't idle.
