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I turn another page. Three bonded riders experienced interruption between themselves and their dragons. Duration varied between four and eleven breaths. No physical separation or injury observed. I stop. Slowly, I look across the table. Rhyven is already watching me.

"What happened at the ward?"

He does not pretend not to understand. His gaze drops briefly to the field report. Then returns to me. "For one second, I couldn't feel him."

The library feels suddenly too quiet. "Your dragon?"

Rhyven nods once. I know almost nothing about the bonds between riders and dragons. Only what Professor Neris taught us. Shared consciousness. Emotional awareness. A connection unlike ordinary magic.

"Can that happen?" I ask.

"No." The answer comes without hesitation. "Never?"

"If he's unconscious, injured or deliberately blocking me, the bond can change."

I frown. "But disappear?"

"No." His jaw tightens. "It didn't weaken. It was gone." The words cost him more than his expression reveals. Only a second. Still enough.

"What is his name?"

Rhyven studies me. Perhaps surprised by the question. "Vyrael."

The name sits between us. Ancient. Sharp. "Was he near the ward?"

"On the eastern cliffs."

"Did he notice anything?"

"He noticed me."

"That isn't what I asked."

"I know." His gaze shifts toward the white tree. "He was angry afterward."

"At what?"

"Not knowing."

I understand that kind of anger. I look back at the book. The entries continue. Vampires describing blood that carried no warmth, no history, no sense of the person it belonged to. Medusae finding structures without visible fractures that collapsed days later. Wards remaining intact while failing to recognize the magic they were built to protect. Every report describes interruption. Not destruction. Something present but unreachable.

I read one passage aloud, quietly. "'The first evidence was not attack, but silence. Magic remained in place, yet ceased to answer those who called upon it.'"

Rhyven does not move. "That happened in the Trial." The words leave before I decide to share them.

His gaze sharpens. "What happened?"

I close the book. Not because I have changed my mind. Because I need a moment to organize what I am about to give him. I have told Nyra. Rowan. Cassian. They were there. This is different. Rhyven is a Chief Wings Officer. Anything I tell him could become a report. A Council matter. Something that reaches my father. Rhyven watches the hesitation. He does not demand an answer. That makes giving one easier.

"There was a section of forest where everything became silent." I say quietly.

"How silent?"

"No birds. No leaves. No wind."

"The Trial could suppress sound."

"It wasn't sound alone." I pause. "Nyra touched a tree. It was alive, but she couldn't feel it."