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He notices. "What."

"Nothing."

"That answer is getting worse." I leave before he sees me smile.

At lunch, food appears beside my elbow. I stop mid-sentence. Nyra stops too. We both stare at the plate. Bread. Meat. Fruit. I slowly turn. Rhyven is at the far end of the common-room table talking to Caelen.

He does not look at me. I look at Nyra.

She raises both eyebrows.

"No." I whisper.

"I didn't say anything."

"You don't have to." I look at the food again. This is unbearable.

"Eat." Rhyven says without turning. My head snaps up. Caelen closes his eyes. Nyra puts her face in her hands.

Cassian looks between everyone. "What the fuck is happening?" No one answers him.

By afternoon, the Council announces another change.

No solo research. No solo patrol. No solo training after dark. Even inside Response Quarters, a floor roster records who leaves and returns. It should feel suffocating. Instead, after Theryn, nobody argues. Not much.

Our afternoon dragon practical is cancelled. Dragon riders need the grounds. Every Rider is being evaluated. Bond responsiveness. Distance thresholds.

Stress reactions. Emergency return signals. I see Rhyven only once from the upper corridor. He's below with six Riders. No sarcasm. No teasing. Chief. Eddy stands among them. Pale. Empty-handed. His place beside him too large. No dragon. I have to look away. Nyra joins me. "That's awful."

"Yes." She follows my gaze toward Rhyven.Then says nothing. Thank every god.

We spend the next hour comparing historical dragon events. Day twenty-six. Two dragons temporarily unresponsive. Day thirty-one. A Rider reported feeling "cold distance" through the bond. Day thirty-five. One dragon refused to cross a western ward line.

Then open assault. The records are sparse. Infuriatingly so. But one thing is obvious. "Historically, the dragons noticed first." Nyra says.

I look toward her. "What?"

She rearranges the reports. "Before the first attack. Dragons became reactive. Bond disruption. Refusing territory. Unusual migration."

Cassian sits up. "So they sensed whatever was coming."

"Possibly." Nyra looks toward the current timeline.

"This time..." She doesn't finish. She doesn't have to.

This time, something already took one.

"What does that mean?" I ask.

Nyra's face tightens. "Either the threat is stronger."

"Or smarter." Cassian adds. Neither is comforting.

The next disappearance is expected Thursday.

Expected. I hate that word. The entire Academy now does. But Response Quarters treat the next forty-eight hours differently. Preparation. Sensors recalibrated. Dragon sectors reinforced. Siren teams rotated to avoid fatigue. Blood Echo response kit updated. I now carry three sealed containment gloves instead of one. Vayne insists. Rhyven approves. Obviously.

At seventeen hundred, Professor Vayne takes me through Blood Echo recovery drills. Twenty-six seconds. Again. Twenty-two. Again. Twenty-one. He looks disappointed. I look exhausted. "That's improvement." I say.