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Slowly. She reaches for the notebook. Opens to the page where we've been tracking everything we don't understand. Disappearances. Dates. Historical attacks. Missing records. Patterns. She writes one more line. HEART OF VARETHIA. Then beneath it: Unknown. She looks at me. "That's it?"

"That's all we know." Nyra considers. Then nods. Closes the notebook. We don't investigate further. Not tonight. Maybe Father is right. Maybe it's nothing. Maybe we're exhausted enough to turn old words into mysteries simply because we need answers somewhere. I lie back. Nyra turns off the lamp. Darkness settles. Outside, Varethia remains quiet. Twelve days without another disappearance. Twelve days without an attack. Twelve days of everyone beginning to believe the worst has passed.

And somewhere in the dark, one question sits quietly among all the others. Not answered. Not forgotten. Just waiting.

Chapter Forty-nine

The alarm goes off during breakfast. Not four bells. Not the disappearance tone. Not the low magical whine of depletion. A full breach alarm. For half a second, nobody moves. Then everything happens at once. Chairs scrape. Cups fall. Someone swears.

A first-year screams because everyone else started moving before she understood why. I am already standing. Weapon. Door. Nyra beside me. Cassian behind. Caelen nowhere in sight. Rhyven neither. Doesn't matter. We know what to do.

"Western corridor!" Someone shouts. "Move!"

We move. Students pour from the dining hall into the central passage. Too many. Too slow. A group near the stairs hesitates. Bad. Another turns toward the eastern route. Wrong. I grab one boy by the shoulder.

"Not that way."

"What?"

"You're Root Wing?"

"Yes."

"South stairwell. Reinforcement team."

"But—"

"Go."

He goes. The breach alarm continues. Loud. Relentless. My pulse climbs. Everything in my body expects smoke. Blood. Grey grass. A missing name. Instead— Professor Vayne appears at the end of the corridor with a clipboard. A clipboard. I stop. Oh. No.

"Drill!" Someone yells. The word spreads. Relief moves through the hallway so quickly it's almost visible. People slow. Some actually stop. A second-year laughs. Someone leans against the wall.

One girl says: "Gods, I thought it was real."

And that's when Rhyven appears. He walks down the western stairs. Not running. No weapon drawn. No urgency. Expression flat. That should have been reassuring. It isn't. "Why did you stop?" The corridor goes quiet. The second-year near the wall straightens.

Nobody answers. Rhyven looks around. "How many of you knew this was a drill?" Hands rise. Slowly. Not many. Then more. Students who figured it out when they saw Vayne. Rhyven nods once. "Interesting." His gaze moves toward the western corridor. A red light burns above the doorway. Simulated breach. Still active. Still spreading. "How many Hollowborn do you think will announce themselves first?" No hands. Obviously. Rhyven looks toward the second-year who laughed. "Answer."

The boy swallows. "None."

"Correct." Rhyven points toward the red light. "Then why is the inner corridor compromised?" Silence.

Professor Vayne checks his clipboard. "Six minutes, forty-two seconds."

Rhyven's expression doesn't change. "Again." A collective groan rises. His eyes lift. It dies instantly.

We reset. Breakfast resumes. Technically. Nobody eats. Five minutes later— alarm. Again.

This time we move faster. Better. Still not good enough. A group abandons a ward station because they assume another team will cover it. The simulated breach reaches the second courtyard. "Again." Rhyven.

Third attempt. A dragon-pressure obstruction is added. Of course. A bronze dragon lands across one evacuation path. Students panic. Someone turns the wrong direction. Cassian shouts: "Tail!" The group corrects. Better. Still— five minutes, eleven seconds. "Again."

By the fourth attempt, nobody is laughing. Nobody is relieved when they realize it's still a drill. Good. That seems to be the point.

The fifth begins differently. The alarm sounds. I stand. Then Professor Vayne points toward the Chiefs. "Dead." Silence. Rhyven looks at him. Vayne continues. "Corvell. Thorne. Eilvaris. Maelis. Dawn Chief. All incapacitated."

"What?" A student says.