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We both say it like investigators. Careful. Qualified. But underneath We're just girls desperately hoping nobody disappears.

Dinner is almost loud. Cassian tells a story. People laugh. Professor Neris eats in the dining hall instead of the Council rooms. Even she looks slightly less tense. Rhyven and Caelen don't appear. Chiefs are stationed across the perimeter tonight. Continuous rotation. Of course.

At seven nothing. Eight. Nothing. Nine. Still nothing.

Sunday begins to feel survivable. At ten, the final high-risk civilian movement restrictions begin. Village businesses close. Students return to residences. Patrols remain active. Dragon coverage increases. The Academy lights stay on. No one sleeps.

Not really.

At ten thirty, my roommates climb into bed. One reads. The other pretends to. Neither speaks about midnight. I sit at my desk. Try to study. Read the same line six times. Give up. Try dragon notes. Worse. Try my Dominion essay. Professor Vayne's handwriting somehow makes anxiety worse. I close everything. Ten forty-seven. Nothing. At ten fifty-three my roommate blows out her candle.

"Goodnight."

"Night." Her voice is too quiet. The other follows. Darkness settles over the room. I lie down. Stare at the ceiling. No. Absolutely not. My body feels like a drawn bow. Every muscle waiting. Every thought moving too fast. I last three minutes. Then sit up. Ten fifty-eight.

I slip from bed. Pull on trousers. A sweater. Boots.

My roommates don't move. Good. Maybe Nyra is awake. Of course Nyra is awake. Nyra probably has a chart documenting every minute of today. I cross toward the door. Open it. And stop. Rhyven is standing on the other side. For several seconds neither of us speaks. He is wearing dark training clothes. No Chief coat. No formal uniform. Sleeves rolled.Two wooden practice blades rest in one hand.

His hair looks like he's been running his fingers through it. Once. Maybe twice. For Rhyven that practically qualifies as panic. I lean against the doorframe. "Were you about to knock?"

"Eventually."

I blink. "How long have you been standing there?"

"Irrelevant."

"That's concerning."

"No." I study him. His jaw is tight. Shoulders too still. Golden eyes sharper than usual. Rhyven looks stressed the way mountains look stressed. Not visibly.

But you get the sense something terrible might happen if enough pressure builds.

"What are those?" I ask, though the answer is obvious.

"Blades."

"Thank you."

"You asked."

"Why are you holding them outside my bedroom?"

A pause. Then— "Train?" That's it. One word. No explanation. No I couldn't sleep. No You're anxious. No I'm losing my mind waiting for midnight. Just...Train?

I answer immediately. "Yes."

We don't wake anyone. Don't tell Caelen. That part feels slightly criminal. I decide not to think about it.

Rhyven walks beside me through the empty corridor.

Not ahead. Not behind. Beside. The Academy at nearly eleven feels unfamiliar. Lights burn at every intersection. Wardkeepers stand in groups of three. Students remain inside common rooms. Every few corridors, a professor checks names against a list.

No one questions Rhyven. Chief privilege. Useful.

We reach Field Three at eleven eleven. I notice the clock because of course I do. Rhyven notices me noticing. "Don't."

"I didn't say anything."