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"Wise."

She and Cassian disappear into the stream of students crossing the Great Hall. I remain seated a moment longer. Trying to decide whether I'm avoiding class or chasing answers.

"You missed the pie." The voice comes from behind me. Dry. Matter-of-fact. Entirely unsurprised to find me here. I don't turn immediately.

"I did."

Rhyven steps around the end of the table. There's a notebook tucked beneath one arm and a mug of black coffee in his hand. He looks exactly the same as always. Dark circles beneath his eyes suggest otherwise.

"You didn't sleep." I say before I can stop myself.

One corner of his mouth almost moves. "Observation." He says.

"I've been trained."

He sets the mug down. "Walk with me."

Not an order. Not quite a request. Simply an expectation. For reasons I can't entirely explain, I follow. The corridors are quieter this early. Most students have already disappeared into morning lectures. Our footsteps echo against polished stone. Neither of us speaks until we're well beyond the dining hall. Finally— "The blood." He says.

"There was nothing."

"I know." He answers.

"No." I stop walking. "You don't." He waits. Patiently. Searching for the right words feels impossible. "I've touched blood my entire life." I say. "My own. My family's. Strangers'. It always..." I press a hand against my forehead. "It always remembers." Rhyven says nothing. He simply listens. "Sometimes it's only a feeling." I continue. "Sometimes it's an image. A voice. A scent. An emotion. But there's always..." I search for it. "Someone." The memory of the night before crawls back beneath my skin. "Last night..." I swallow. "There wasn't even silence." His eyes remain fixed on mine. "It was..." I shake my head slowly. "Like touching a place where a person should have been." The words hang between us.

He doesn't dismiss them. Doesn't question them. Doesn't tell me I was tired or overwhelmed. Instead— "I believe you." Just that. Three words. Simple. Certain. Something inside me stills.

"I haven't even explained it properly."

"You explained enough." We resume walking. "I spoke with Vyrael." He says after a while.

I glance toward him. "The bond?"

"It vanished." He says.

"For how long?"

"A heartbeat. Maybe two. The same as before." He answers.

"The same." I repeat.

"He's never experienced anything like it."

This is unsettling. "Can dragons..." I hesitate. "Be wrong?"

Rhyven actually thinks about the question. "About many things." He answers. "They're stubborn. Proud. Occasionally dramatic." Despite everything, a tiny smile threatens.

"Occasionally?" I ask.

"Frequently." The smile disappears almost as quickly as it came. "But not about their own bond."

We reach the long windows overlooking the eastern valley. Morning mist still clings to the cliffs. Far below, dragons circle the thermal currents. Everything appears exactly as it should. That's what frightens me most. Nothing looks wrong. Everything feels wrong.

Rhyven rests one forearm against the stone windowsill. "I've spent half the morning asking myself the same question." His voice is thoughtful.

"What question?"

He looks out toward the mountains. "How many impossible things have happened?"