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"The Trial. The ward. Vyrael. The blood."

"Four." I wait. He finally looks back at me. "One coincidence..." His voice remains calm. "Is luck." A pause. "Two is unusual." Another. "Four..." He folds his arms. "Is evidence."

The words settle heavily between us. Not because they're dramatic. Because they're true. For the first time since the Trial I don't feel like I'm trying to convince someone that something is wrong. Someone else has already reached the same conclusion.

"What do we do?" I ask quietly.

Rhyven doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he watches two first-years crossing the courtyard below. Then— "We stop guessing." He turns toward me. "We prove it."

For several seconds, neither of us moves. The words linger between us. We prove it. Not we tell someone. Not we warn the professors. Proof. It is exactly what Professor Neris would demand. Exactly what my father would demand. Exactly what I would demand if someone came to me with four impossible stories and no evidence.

"I don't want to accuse shadows." I say quietly.

"Good." Rhyven answers. "You shouldn't." He pushes himself away from the window.

"If we're wrong..." I start.

"We've frightened ourselves."

"And if we're right?"

His gaze steadies. "Then we don't walk into Professor Neris' office with a feeling. We walk in with facts."

The corridor begins filling with late students rushing toward morning lectures. They weave around us without paying much attention. Chief Wings Officers speaking with first-years isn't unusual. The conversation itself remains hidden inside ordinary appearances.

"Can Blood Echo be repeated?" Rhyven asks.

I hesitate. "Usually."

"Usually?" He asks.

"It depends."

"On what?"

"The person. The amount of blood. The emotional state." I pause. "And..."

"And?"

I look down at my hands. "I've never deliberately tried."

He blinks. "What?"

"My manifestation." I flex my fingers unconsciously. "It always... happened. When I was younger, it frightened me. So I learned not to touch blood unless I had to." Professor Neris' words drift back through my memory. You will not experiment unsupervised. "I've never practiced." I admit quietly. "I've avoided it."

Rhyven studies me for a long moment. "I have a question."

"Go on."

"Answer honestly." I nod. "Last night...When you pulled your hand away. Were you afraid?"

I don't answer immediately. I replay the moment. The blood. The emptiness. The cold. "No." I whisper. "I was..." The word arrives unexpectedly. "Lonely." His brow furrows. "It felt..." I struggle again. "Like reaching for another person and discovering there was no one there." Even now, remembering it makes my stomach tighten.

Rhyven doesn't look away. "That isn't fear."

"No. It isn't."

He glances toward the corridor leading to the academic wing. "We have one advantage." I look at him. "The student." He adds.