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"That's exactly what an insane person would say."

"Again." Of course.

By seven thirty, my left hand feels like it belongs to someone I deeply dislike. Professor Vayne finally releases my right arm. Blood rushes back properly.

I flex my fingers. Rhyven passes behind me. "Tomorrow."

I look over. "What."

"Left hand."

"No."

"Yes."

"I'm filing a complaint."

"With who."

"Someone competent."

"Good luck." He keeps walking. I stare after him. Infuriating.

Training moves directly into ward-failure drills. Then emergency navigation. Then tactical academics. There is no room in the schedule for thought. I am beginning to understand why Rhyven likes it.

By ten thirty, I have reinforced a collapsing ward under simulated manifestation loss twice. Failed once. Succeeded once. Professor Elian calls that improvement. Professor Vayne calls it unacceptable.

Rhyven calls it: "Again." I consider murder.

The Academy outside Response training feels stranger every day. Quieter in the wrong way. Not fear. Relief. Ten days now. Ten days without another disappearance. People have stopped checking the bells every time they ring. Students walk slightly farther apart. The Place stays open later. Someone removed one of the unofficial handwritten notices from the eastern corridor yesterday. MISSING — JONAS VALE. The official board remains. Still. Something about seeing the empty patch on the wall bothers me. I don't put it back. I don't know why.

Lunch lasts thirty minutes today. Luxury. Nyra studies through it. Cassian complains through it. Caelen appears for approximately four minutes, eats enough for three people, then disappears back into Chief duty. Rhyven doesn't arrive. I notice. Damn.

I look toward the Chief table. Empty seat. Again. Nyra asks: "What?"

"Nothing." Good. No interrogation. We have collectively improved.

Afternoon dragon practical begins under cloud cover.

Cold wind moves across the field. Six dragons. Three unfamiliar. One I recognize only by color. A large red-brown female with dark striping along her throat. No Rider standing near her. That's deliberate now. Students have to read the dragon before receiving any context. Professor Kaelis gestures. "Observe." The dragon stands near the eastern boundary. Tail moving. Not lashing. Slow sweep. Head high. Wings folded tightly. Her breathing looks faster than it should. Something is wrong. Several students begin discussing.

"Agitated."

"Defensive."

"Territorial."

I don't answer immediately. Her attention isn't on us. That's the first thing. Her eyes keep moving past the formation. Behind us. Then back. Again. Past us. I turn slightly. Rhyven stands thirty yards away beside Professor Kaelis. Watching. He doesn't signal. Doesn't help. Good. I look back at the dragon. Tail.

Head. Wings. Breathing. Not defensive. Alert. Distracted. No. Concerned. "She's not reacting to us."

I say.

Kaelis looks toward me. "Then what."

I don't turn. "Something behind us."

Several students immediately look back. Bad. The dragon's head jerks. Her tail stiffens. "Stop moving."