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Full gear. Practice blade replaced with steel. Evidence gloves. Containment seals. Medical kit. Professor Vayne checks everything twice. "Blood Echo only on command."

"I know."

"Five seconds maximum if unknown residue is present."

"I know."

"No—"

"Heroics." I finish.

He nods. "Good."

Rhyven enters halfway through inspection.

Mobile Command harness over his uniform. Weapons strapped across his back. Radio crystal clipped near his collar. He looks like every terrible thing we're preparing for already made the mistake of annoying him personally. His eyes find me. Then my gear. He steps closer. Says nothing. Checks the fastening across my shoulder. Tightens it once. I look down at his hands. Nyra. Coffee. Food. Blanket. Training. Everything I hadn't seen before. Now I see all of it. Damn her. Rhyven finishes the fastening.

Looks up. I am apparently still staring. "What."

I shake my head. "Nothing." His expression says he does not believe me. Good. Let him suffer. "Go save Varethia, Corvell." His mouth almost moves.

Then his face becomes serious. He takes one step back. "Stay where I can find you." The words are quiet. Not an order to the unit. Not protocol. Me. I stop smiling. He seems to realize what he said. Doesn't take it back. Of course he doesn't.

"That's not very subtle." I say.

"No."

"Good." He turns. Walks toward the command gate. I watch him go. Only for a second. Maybe two. This time I know exactly what I'm looking at.

Twenty-three hundred. Everyone accounted for. Twenty-three fifteen. Nothing. Twenty-three thirty. Nothing. The sensors burn bright along the corridors. Siren units wait. Dragons circle overhead. Nyra's command board tracks every patrol. My response

team stands ready. No one speaks above a murmur.

If the pattern holds...tonight. Twenty-three forty-five.

Professor Vayne looks toward the clock. No comment.

No one needs one. I adjust the strap Rhyven tightened earlier. Still perfect. Annoying.

Twenty-three fifty. Nothing. My pulse starts climbing. Not because I want the bells. Gods, no. Because waiting has become its own kind of violence.

Across the courtyard, Mobile Command changes position. I catch sight of Rhyven through the open archway. He is talking to two wardkeepers. Working.

Focused. Then he looks up. Finds me. Just once. No smile. No nod. Nothing anyone else would notice. But something moves in the connection. Still here. Yes.

Twenty-three fifty-five. The Academy holds its breath. We are ready. More ready than we've ever been. And this time, if something happens we won't spend hours searching blindly. We'll measure the magic. Track the gap. Preserve the trace. Follow the evidence. For the first time we might actually learn something before the trail goes cold. I look toward the clock. Five minutes until midnight. No bells. Not yet.

Chapter Forty-one

Five minutes until midnight. Nothing. Professor Vayne stands beside the western archway with his arms folded, watching the command crystal mounted above the courtyard. Steady blue. Full magical output. No depletion. No warning. Around us, Rapid Response Unit Two waits. Three third-years. Two wardkeepers. Professor Vayne. Me. Nobody talks anymore. We did for the first hour. Not much.

Enough. Then eleven thirty arrived and conversation died naturally. Now every tiny sound seems too loud.

Boots against stone. The movement of paper from the command station. Wind passing through the archway. Dragons overhead. Especially the dragons. I hear their wings every few minutes. Heavy beats moving through the darkness. A sound that has become so normal since the Council changed Academy operations that I barely notice it anymore.

Tonight, I notice everything. Eleven fifty-six. I don't look at the clock. I know. Everyone knows. The Academy has become a clock. Every patrol rotation. Every accountability report. Every sensor reading.

Every minute. Measured. Tracked. Waiting.