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Rhyven's expression doesn't move. "I am." Gods.

The Headmaster intervenes before anyone can make this worse. "The records confirm a possibility."

"Not certainty." Professor Vayne says.

Nyra nods. "We know."

"The current silence could have another explanation."

"We know."

"But?" Vayne asks.

Nyra looks toward the map. "But historically, Varethia becoming quiet did not mean the Hollowborn stopped." She pauses. "It meant Varethia stopped being where they were looking." Silence.

My father looks toward the Council representatives.

"Messages to every kingdom."

One of them nods. "Already sent."

"When?" I ask.

"Yesterday." Again. They knew. Fine. Be angry later.

Useful now.

"Security remains unchanged." The Headmaster says.

"No patrol reduction. No training reduction. No curfew changes. No reopening Academy access."

Good. Outside these walls, Varethia may be breathing. Inside— we keep preparing.

The meeting ends near sunset. Nobody has answers.

Just a larger map. A longer history. And one terrifying possibility. As we leave, my father calls my name. I stop. Caelen does too. Rhyven doesn't. He continues several steps. Then waits. Not obviously. Just enough. My father looks tired. Older somehow.

"Do not mistake silence for safety."

I almost laugh. "We didn't."

"I know." His eyes move briefly toward Rhyven. Then back.

"Good."

That's all.

That night, the Academy dining hall is louder than it has been in weeks. Students laugh. Someone throws bread. A professor actually leaves before curfew checks. The disappearance board remains unchanged. Six names. No seventh.

Outside the Academy walls, music starts in the village. I can hear it faintly from North Residence. Friday music. Returned. Normal life.

I stand at the window for a while. Watch distant lanterns. Four days. Maybe tomorrow makes five.

Then six. Seven. Maybe eleven. Maybe more. Maybe nothing happens. I want that. Gods, I want that.

But somewhere in the old library beneath the village sits a record written more than a century ago. Eleven quiet days.Then Elarion. Then Tiravell. Then Lyssara.

Not an invasion. A route.