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Across the room, Rhyven is staring at me. Not the professor. Not the Council. Me. And I feel the thought he doesn't say. Not through words. Not through magic. Through the fear suddenly tightening between us. Jonas. Elara. No pattern. Anyone. His gaze doesn't leave mine. And somewhere inside the man who trusts me to stand beside dragons, fight my own battles and walk directly into danger, something changes. Not enough for him to understand it yet. Not enough for me to name it. But enough that when Professor Vayne orders everyone back to their Wings, Rhyven doesn't turn away until I move toward my Wing mates. Only then does he leave.

Chapter Thirty-two

By Tuesday morning, everyone has learned how to pretend. Pretend the empty chair at breakfast does not matter. Pretend the guards at every entrance are temporary. Pretend professors are not checking attendance twice. Pretend the silence in the dining hall is only exhaustion. Pretend we are still students first. I watch a second-year wolf laugh too loudly at something his friend says. No one joins him. He stops. The silence returns. Across the room, Jonas's usual table remains half full. His cup is gone now. Someone finally cleared it. I don't know why that bothers me more. Nyra sits across from me with a notebook open beside her plate. Not reading. Just staring at the same line. Cassian pushes a piece of bread toward her. "You haven't eaten."

She looks at him. "Neither have you."

"I ate yesterday."

"That's not how food works."

"Debatable."

Normally, I'd laugh. Today, I barely manage a smile. Caelen arrives last. He looks like he slept even less than the rest of us. He drops into the empty chair beside me. "Any news?" Cassian asks quietly. Caelen shakes his head. No Jonas. No Elara. Nothing. The search continues. The bell rings. Every head in the dining hall lifts at once. Not because it's unusual. Because now every sound feels like it might mean something. It's only first period. The room exhales. We stand. Classes continue. Of course they do.

Professor Aldren begins exactly on time. He doesn't mention Jonas. Doesn't mention Bellmere. Doesn't mention the Council. He writes the day's title across the board. Postwar Reconstruction and the Second Accord. Someone in the back actually laughs. Not because it's funny. Because it's absurd. A student is missing. A woman is missing. And apparently we still need to know how trade routes were rebuilt after the Silent War. Professor Aldren turns. "I assume there's something amusing about reconstruction policy." No one answers. His gaze sweeps the room. "I thought not." He returns to the board. "Open your texts." And somehow we do.

For the first twenty minutes, I absorb almost nothing. Words pass through me. Agricultural recovery. Border negotiations. Reallocation of wardkeepers. Population displacement. Then Professor Aldren says something that catches. "After instability, institutions attempt to restore routine." My eyes lift. He continues writing. "Routine is not denial." A pause. "It is structure." The room becomes quieter. "Structure prevents fear from becoming chaos." He never turns toward us. Never says Jonas's name. We all understand. Nyra writes the line down. Not for the exam. For herself. I know because she circles it once.

After class, the corridors feel tighter than usual. Students move in groups. Even in daylight. No one officially told us to. No one needs to. A fae girl waits outside a washroom until her roommate comes out. Two first-years refuse to take the eastern stairwell alone. A third-year vampire asks a professor to walk with him to the infirmary. No one makes fun of anyone. That scares me more than if they had.

Dominion is cancelled. Officially, it has nothing to do with the disappearances. Professor Vayne has been reassigned to Council manifestation reviews. The notice on the door simply says: INDEPENDENT STUDY. No explanation. No alternative assignment. Cassian stares at it. "I think the Academy has finally admitted defeat."

Nyra looks at him. "Don't joke about that."

He blinks. Then nods. "Right." Even Cassian is learning when humor doesn't belong.

We spend the unexpected hour in the library. Actually studying. At first, Nyra quizzes me on dragon-response protocol. Cassian falls asleep over a diagram of wing positioning. I correct three pages of Dominion notes and discover Professor Vayne has written NO beside one of my answers with enough force to nearly tear the parchment. I stare at it. "Helpful."

Nyra leans over. "What did you write?"

"Apparently something offensive."

Cassian opens one eye. "Frame it."

I almost laugh. For forty minutes, nothing terrible happens. No bells. No announcements. No professors running through doors. Just books. Quills. Complaints. Students. Normal. Nearly. Then Nyra closes her book. "Enough."

I look up. "What?"

"We're wasting time."

"We're studying."

"I know."

She lowers her voice. "I mean with the timeline."

Cassian's second eye opens. "Finally." He yawns. "You were asleep."

"I was listening internally."

"No, you weren't."

He sits up anyway. Nyra pulls the copied notes from her satchel. Only the public records. Nothing from the sealed Archive. 413. 414. 415. 416. 417. Then the years leading toward the Silent War. She spreads them across the table. "I've been thinking about sequence."

I lean closer. "What about it?"

"We keep treating every anomaly as separate evidence." She points. "Plants." Another page. "Animals." Another. "Manifestations. Wards." Then— "Disappearances."