Camille didn't sleep after the incident at the lake.
Even after Elara placed six wards around her quarters. Even after Magnolia sat beside her until dawn. Something had shifted. Not in the bond, not in the seal but in her.
And it was no longer silent.
She dressed slowly after sunrise, eyes hollow, fingers trembling as they laced the cords of her blouse. She didn't know what she'd find in the mirror. And still, she couldn't stay away.
The western corridor was empty when she stepped into it.
The others were likely preparing for the council briefing, or pretending the camp hadn't begun fracturing around her.
She passed by the sealed archives, the old chapel, and the bloodline chamber before reaching the unused observatory chamber tucked behind the scriptorium.
It hadn't been opened in years.
She touched the rusted iron handle.
And the door unlatched on its own.
Inside, the dust was thick, but the air was clear.
No cobwebs.
No decay.
Only stillness.
