The hallway stretched out ahead of them, quiet and clean.
Too clean.
No foot traffic. No late students. Just the sound of their boots on polished stone and the faint buzz of the upper hall lights.
Merlin didn't look back.
Whatever was in that courtyard hadn't followed them physically.
But the feeling stayed.
Right behind his ribs.
A slow pull. Like something reaching through the ground with hands that hadn't taken shape yet.
Elara walked beside him, silent. She hadn't sheathed her weapon. Not completely.
They passed through the eastern arch.
And stopped.
Nathan stood in the middle of the hall.
Shoulders slouched. Bag half-zipped. A rolled-up training mat in one hand and a stick of dried fruit in the other.
He blinked.
"You two look like hell," he said.
Merlin didn't say anything.
Elara didn't, either.
Nathan raised an eyebrow. "Not even a sarcastic greeting? That bad?"
His gaze swept over them. Elara's stance. Merlin's face. The way neither of them met his eyes.
