The glass was cool beneath his forehead. His breath fogged faintly against it, blurring the sunlit courtyard outside. Nathan's laughter, Adrian's easy grin, the chatter of passing students, it was all so fragile, so impossibly ordinary.

Merlin's fingers pressed harder into the windowpane.

'Real… it has to be. It has to.'

He didn't trust his own pulse anymore. He didn't trust the silence, the light, the way the world moved as though he had never left. His reflection stared back at him, golden eyes rimmed red, hair clinging to his temples. A stranger. A survivor. A ghost.

The click of a door handle broke the stillness.

Merlin stiffened. His head turned slightly, gold flickering as the door creaked open.

Soft footsteps. Careful. Hesitant. He could almost taste the hesitation, the pause just inside the threshold.

And then—

A voice, soft, uncertain. "…Merlin?"

He froze. The sound cracked something in his chest, deeper than any blade or curse.

The door opened wider, and she stepped inside.

Victoria Everhart.

Her hair fell in loose curls down her shoulders, dark like his, though threaded faintly with copper in the light. Her eyes widened as they fell on him. She was carrying a pot, glazed ceramic painted with little gold flecks, a cluster of white lilies blooming from its soil. The kind of careful, living gift one brought to a patient.

She had come prepared to see him frail, bedridden, broken.

She had not come prepared to see him standing.

The pot slipped from her hands.

Ceramic shattered against tile. Soil scattered across the sterile floor. The lilies bent under the weight of their own collapse.

Victoria's breath hitched, sharp. Her lips trembled.

And then the tears came.

"Merlin—!"

Her body moved before thought could catch up. She stumbled forward, skirts catching against the fragments, heedless of the dirt, the water spreading across the tile. Her arms locked around him, clutching, trembling, as though she thought he might dissolve in her grasp if she let go.

Merlin's chest seized.

Her warmth. The scent of lilies and earth and tears. Her voice breaking against his shoulder.

It was too much.

His hands hovered, suspended in the air as though he didn't know what to do with them. Fingers curled, uncertain, then unclenched again.

'This… this is real. Isn't it?'

Her sobs shook against him. "You're—idiot—you're really—you're alive—you—" She couldn't finish. Her words broke apart between gasps.

Merlin's throat burned. He lowered his hands, slowly, almost painfully, until they rested against her back. His fingers pressed into the fabric of her blouse, trembling.

"…Victoria." His voice was hoarse, scraped raw.

She only sobbed harder.

[Stability: Confirmed.]

[External interference: Null.]

The system's faint hum trembled in the corner of his vision, almost reverent.

For once, Merlin didn't curse it.

He closed his eyes, resting his chin against her shoulder. The world outside could have burned down to ashes and he wouldn't have cared. This momen, this trembling, fragile, human moment, was heavier than anything the gods had shown him.

'If this is another lie, I'll tear it apart with my bare hands. But if it's real…'

His grip tightened.

'I'm never letting go.'

–

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, though Merlin knew it was only minutes. Victoria's sobs quieted into uneven breaths, her forehead pressed hard into his chest as if anchoring herself there. Her hands fisted against his shirt.

When she finally pulled back, her cheeks were streaked, her lashes wet. She tried to smile, failed, and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. "You—" Her voice cracked. She shook her head, starting again. "You were gone for weeks, Merlin. Weeks. And then nothing. No one could tell me if you'd ever—if you'd—"

Her lips trembled. She bit them hard enough to leave red marks.

Merlin stared at her, the words hitting like stones. Weeks.

Not years in war. Not eternity in loops. Weeks.

His golden eyes dimmed, shadowed by something too heavy to name.

"…I'm here now." It was all he could say.

Victoria laughed weakly through her tears, half-choked, half-relieved. "Idiot. That's all you have to say after—after—" She shook her head again, fresh tears welling. "I should hit you. I should slap you across the face and—"

Merlin's lips twitched, a ghost of something not quite a smile. "Do it, then."

Her hand lifted, hesitated, then dropped, curling back into his sleeve instead. She pressed her forehead to his chest again. "No. Not now. I can't let go. Not yet."

His throat closed. He could only nod, his hand resting on her hair.

–

The lilies lay broken on the floor, petals bruised, stems bent. Victoria noticed them at last, sniffled, and let out a shaky laugh. "That was supposed to make you smile."

Merlin glanced down at the scattered flowers. Soil dark against white tile. Life ruined in an instant.

His chest tightened.

But he crouched anyway, guiding her down with him. His fingers brushed soil together, careful, slow. He picked up the broken stems one by one, gathering them with almost painful precision.

Victoria wiped her eyes and watched him, something unreadable flickering in her gaze.

When the last petal rested in his palm, Merlin exhaled, staring at it.

'Fragile. That's what this world really is. Not gods. Not wars. Not labyrinths. Just this. People breaking over each other. Flowers shattering when dropped.'

He set the lilies gently on the bedside table. His fingers lingered a second longer, then withdrew.

Victoria's voice was soft. "You've changed."

Merlin's golden eyes lifted. "…So have you."

She blinked, surprised, then smiled faintly through her tears.

–

The silence after that was different. Not sterile. Not oppressive. Just two siblings sitting together in a hospital room, broken flowers between them.

For the first time since the labyrinth, Merlin didn't feel alone.

[The Messenger observes in silence.]

[The Witness is satisfied.]

[The Arbiter withdraws.]

Merlin's jaw tightened. He forced the messages out of his vision. Not now. Not here.

Victoria was watching him, and that was all that mattered.

–

Time slipped away. Nurses came and went, surprised to see Merlin out of bed, but said nothing under Victoria's sharp glare. They left water, replaced sheets, swept away fragments of broken ceramic. Neither sibling moved.

Finally, when the room was quiet again, Victoria spoke.

"…You scared me more than anyone ever has."

Merlin looked at her, his chest aching. He didn't know what to say.

So he didn't.

Instead, he reached out, hooked his pinky around hers like they had done as children. A silent promise.

Her breath caught. She smiled again, broken but real.

And for a moment, for a fragile, fleeting moment, Merlin believed in peace.

—

The lilies still lay in fragments on the bedside table. Merlin's golden eyes lingered on them, the bruised petals curling inward as if ashamed to have broken. His finger traced a line through the scattered dirt, absent, unthinking.

Victoria hadn't moved. Her pinky was still looped through his, stubborn and fragile at once.

It felt like an anchor.

It felt like home.

The door creaked again.

Merlin's head turned. Victoria's grip on him tightened instinctively, a flicker of defensiveness sparking in her eyes.

The woman who entered froze mid-step.

Vivienne Dorne. Instructor of flame. Long blonde hair tied neatly back, brown eyes sharp enough to make half the Academy quake under their stare. She was strict, disciplined, unyielding, Merlin had never seen her falter.

But when her gaze landed on him, standing beside the bed, golden eyes steady, her hands trembled.

Her lips parted soundlessly. The clipboard she carried slipped from her fingers. It hit the floor with a hollow clatter, echoing in the sterile room.

"…Merlin."

His chest twisted at the sound.

Vivienne's voice broke, rough, unsteady. "You… you stupid boy…"

Before he could answer, she was already across the room.

Her arms locked around him, hard, fierce, nothing like Victoria's trembling hold. Vivienne clutched him to her chest as if trying to burn him alive with her warmth, as though sheer will could keep him tethered to the world.

And then she wept.

Merlin froze. His system flickered faintly at the edges of his vision.

[Unstable emotional surge detected.]

[Correction unnecessary.]

Her tears fell hot against his shoulder. His breath caught.

'This… is Vivienne? The flame instructor who never cracked, never bent?'

Her sobs were muffled against his collar. "Do you know… how many nights we thought you were gone? How many reports came back with nothing but silence? They wouldn't tell us—couldn't tell us—whether you were alive or dust in some forgotten dungeon."

She shook her head against him. Her hands fisted in his shirt. "And you… you walk back into this world like nothing happened—Merlin, you—" Her voice broke again. She pressed harder against him, as if afraid he'd vanish if she loosened her grip.

Merlin's hands hovered, unsure. His body ached from the pressure, but he couldn't bring himself to push her away.

'She's crying… for me. Not for a student. For me.'

The thought felt unreal.

His throat worked, but the words wouldn't come.

Victoria had gone silent, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes shining with a quiet understanding. She let Vivienne hold him, watching the woman's tears drip onto the floor.

"…You're here," Vivienne whispered finally, voice cracking into something almost broken. "You're here, Merlin. That's all that matters."

The instructor, unshakable, unburning, was trembling in his arms.

Merlin closed his eyes, a shudder running down his spine. Slowly, he let his hand rest against her back, uncertain, but steady.

"…I'm here." His voice was quiet, raw, but true.