Across the terrace, for one suspended heartbeat, everything else blurred. The noise, the laughter, the shimmering light, all dimmed to the simple stillness of her violet eyes locking with his golden ones.

She hesitated. Just slightly. Then, as though deciding something, she began walking toward him.

Sera mouthed a silent oh no.

Renn immediately straightened his jacket like a soldier before a superior.

When Elara reached their table, the conversation died entirely.

"Merlin," she said, tone neutral, though her eyes flickered with something warmer. "I didn't expect to see you sitting so far from the center."

He tilted his head. "Didn't want to be part of the exhibit."

Her lips curved faintly. "A shame. You'd make a compelling one."

That earned a low whistle from Renn, quickly silenced when Leira elbowed him in the ribs.

Elara's eyes moved to the rest of the team. "You all performed well today."

"Thank you, ma'am," Leira said quickly, trying to sound professional while half a grape still hung from her fork.

Elara's gaze softened. "You don't have to sound like soldiers. It's a celebration."

"Right," Sera said. "Then, uh—" she raised her glass, nearly spilling it "cheers?"

Elara chuckled quietly. "Cheers."

She turned back to Merlin. "Would you walk with me for a moment?"

A dozen heads turned instantly.

Merlin met her gaze calmly. "Sure."

He stood, ignoring the sudden flurry of knowing smirks behind him, and followed her toward the edge of the terrace.

The air outside was cooler, the lanterns floating higher here, drifting lazily above the city skyline. Below, the capital shimmered, towers glowing with mana currents, streets like veins of gold winding through the dark.

Elara leaned against the railing, hands lightly folded in front of her. "You handled yourself well during the trial."

"So I've been told," Merlin said.

"I know you dislike hearing praise."

He arched a brow. "Then why say it?"

"Because you should get used to it."

He blinked once. "…That sounds like a threat."

Her laugh was quiet, almost private. "Perhaps."

Silence lingered between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. The kind of silence that stretched, steady and warm, filling in spaces words didn't need to reach.

Then she spoke again, softer now. "You know… when I first met you, I thought you were dangerous."

"I probably was."

"You still are," she said, turning slightly to face him. "But not for the reason I thought."

Merlin met her gaze. "And what reason do you think now?"

Her eyes held his, bright, alive, layered with meaning she didn't voice. "Because you make people look past their limits. Sometimes even when they shouldn't."

"That's not always a good thing."

"No," she said quietly. "But it's very you."

The breeze tugged gently at her hair, and without thinking, Merlin reached out, a small motion, brushing a stray strand away from her face.

Elara froze.

Her ears twitched, faintly reddening near the tips.

"You shouldn't…" she started, voice low.

"Touch your hair?"

Her eyes narrowed faintly. "Finish that sentence."

He smirked. "Noted."

For a moment, she just looked at him, half exasperated, half something softer.

Then, to his surprise, she laughed again. Not the polite kind. The real kind.

He didn't realize until then how rare that sound was.

Behind them, a shout rose "MERLIN!"

Both turned. Renn was waving wildly from the main tables. "Come on! They're starting the stupid ceremonial dance thing!"

Sera added, "You two lovebirds can philosophize later!"

Elara's head dropped slightly, hiding the color blooming faintly across her cheeks. "…They're insufferable."

Merlin's mouth twitched. "You get used to it."

"Do you?" she asked, eyes glinting.

"No," he admitted. "But they make it hard to be bored."

She gave a small, reluctant smile, then turned toward the terrace again. "Come on. Let's go before your friends start making assumptions."

"They already have."

Elara sighed. "Then at least let's not confirm them."

The banquet ended slowly, laughter thinning as students drifted back to their dorms. The lanterns dimmed one by one, sinking like tired stars into the night air.

Merlin walked along the stone path toward the dormitories, hands in his pockets. His reflection stretched faintly across the polished marble, golden eyes catching stray light from the torches.

He wasn't used to nights like this. No blood. No fear. No divine shadow whispering in the back of his mind.

Just warmth. Just living.

Behind him, he heard light footsteps.

"Merlin."

He turned.

Elara again, the soft glow of a lantern reflecting in her violet eyes.

"I wanted to say…" She hesitated, then shook her head slightly. "Never mind. You'll know soon enough."

He frowned lightly. "That sounds ominous."

"It's not." She looked at him, something unguarded flickering across her expression. "Just, enjoy tonight. You'll miss it when the world starts moving again."

Before he could reply, she turned, the hem of her dress catching the breeze as she walked away, lanternlight fading with her.

Merlin watched her go until the sound of her footsteps disappeared entirely.

Then he looked up.

The night sky stretched wide above him, endless, untouched, and for once… peaceful.

"…Enjoy it, huh?" he murmured to himself.

He smiled faintly. "I'll try."

The night didn't end when the music stopped.

The lanterns had begun their slow descent, drifting lower, flickering like sleepy stars above the terrace. Students had thinned from the courtyard, laughter echoing faintly down the long stone corridors as the celebration wound down.

But Merlin and Elara lingered.

They found themselves at the quiet edge of the gardens, where the lights didn't reach as brightly and the air smelled faintly of dew and night-blooming flowers. The fountains here murmured softly, their rhythm steady, calm, the kind of calm that didn't demand attention but rewarded silence.

Elara stood a few steps ahead, her back to him, the soft curve of her hair catching the glow from the nearest lantern.

"You could've left with the others," Merlin said, voice breaking the quiet just enough.

"I could've," she replied, not turning. "But I didn't want to."

He stepped beside her, hands sliding into his pockets. "That's dangerously close to sounding sentimental."

Her lips curved faintly. "If I were sentimental, you'd know."

He chuckled, low. "Then I'll take that as a compliment."

"You shouldn't," she said, but her tone was too soft to be a warning.