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"You are." He corrects. "I've already sent someone to inform Professor Aldren."

I stop walking. "You what?"

"I anticipated this conversation."

"You anticipated..." I shake my head. "Of course you did." For a heartbeat, I simply stare at him. Then another thought strikes me. "You already knew where I'd be this morning."

"I had a theory."

"The library. Why?"

"Because that's where I'd go."

Simple. Matter-of-fact. Entirely logical. The realization makes me smile despite myself.

"You really don't stop observing people." I say softly. "No."

"Does it ever get exhausting?"

"Constantly." The answer comes so quickly that I almost laugh again.

By the time we reach the library, the vast circular room is nearly empty. Only a handful of upper-years occupy scattered tables beneath the towering shelves. The familiar scent of parchment and polished wood settles around us. It should feel comforting. Today it feels like a war room. Not because of the books. Because of what we're planning.

"We'll need Cassian first." I say. "Then the student."

Rhyven nods. "And afterward?"

I look toward the shelves where books on magical manifestations stand beside centuries of Academy records. "We compare. Everything. The Trial. The ward. Your bond. My Blood Echo."

"What are we looking for?"

I think about the blood again. About the impossible emptiness. "A pattern."

Before he can answer, footsteps echo softly through the library. Cassian. He stops a few meters away, looking from me to Rhyven. Then to the untouched books on the table. His expression changes immediately. Whatever he'd expected...It wasn't this.

"You missed History." He says.

"I know."

"You never miss History."

"No."

He studies my face. Then Rhyven's. Then mine again. Very quietly, he asks— "How bad is it?" Neither of us answers immediately. Because neither of us truly knows. Yet. Cassian closes the library doors behind him. The heavy wood settles into place with a muted thud, muffling the distant sounds of the Academy beyond. He doesn't sit. He studies us both instead. His gaze lingers on me. "You look like you haven't slept."

"I haven't."

His attention shifts to Rhyven. "You?"

"No."

Cassian exhales slowly. "Wonderful." For a moment, none of us speaks. Then he looks back at me. "Start from the beginning."

So I do. Not everything. Not the ward. Not Rhyven's dragon bond. Only last night. The fall. The blood. The absence. I expect disbelief. Questions. Instead, Cassian listens without interrupting. His expression changes only once. When I describe the emptiness. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. When I finish, the library is silent. Finally, he asks, "What do you need from me?" Not, Are you sure? Not, That isn't possible. Just what do you need? I hadn't realized how much I needed someone to ask exactly that.

"I need to know whether my manifestation still works."

"How?"