Vivienne's eyes widened. "That's a serious accusation."

"It's not an accusation," Morgana replied coolly. "It's an observation."

She finally turned from the projection, her long dark coat shifting slightly with the movement. "Increase surveillance on the lower floors. Quietly. And pull the attendance logs for any student who's been near the archives tonight."

Vivienne nodded, hesitating only a second. "Should I tell Merlin?"

Morgana paused, then shook her head. "No. Not yet. He attracts enough danger as it is."

She turned back to the projection. Her fingers brushed the sigil in the air, and it rippled faintly under her touch, like something alive trying to hide beneath the surface.

Her voice dropped to a whisper only the mana could hear.

"I won't let this happen again."

—

The next morning, the rain had washed the sky clear.

Merlin woke to the soft hum of the dorm's enchantments, blinking against the light filtering through the tall windows. For the first time in days, he hadn't dreamed. The silence in his mind was unnerving, but also… almost peaceful.

A quiet knock sounded at his door.

He stretched, ran a hand through his messy dark hair, and opened it.

Elara stood there, holding two cups of something steaming. She was dressed casually, a light blue blouse, her usual academy cloak draped loosely over one shoulder. Her expression softened slightly when she saw him.

"You look like you haven't slept in three days," she said.

"Good morning to you too," he muttered, taking one of the cups. "Coffee?"

"Tea," she corrected. "You'll survive."

He took a sip, grimacing. "Barely."

She stepped inside without asking, moving to the small desk by the window. "We need to talk about last night."

Merlin sat across from her, nodding. "You think the Veil's really back?"

"I don't know," she admitted. "But if they are, and if they've infiltrated this deep into academy grounds, we have a bigger problem than a failed exam sabotage."

He leaned back in his chair. "I've been thinking the same thing. The lab wasn't just abandoned, it was buried. Someone made sure no one could find it."

Elara crossed her arms, her violet eyes focused. "You think someone inside helped them?"

Merlin's gaze drifted to the window. Outside, the campus buzzed with the morning rush, second-years heading to training halls, laughter echoing faintly through the courtyards. Normalcy, on the surface. But beneath it… something else was moving.

"I think the Veil's too organized to act alone," he said finally. "They always needed a door. Someone inside to open it."

Elara's jaw tightened. "Then we find out who."

He looked back at her, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "You make it sound simple."

"It's not," she said, her tone softening. "But I'd rather start than sit still."

That, at least, made him smile for real. "Fair enough."

They spent the next hour combing through the data crystal Merlin had brought from the archives, what little information hadn't disintegrated. It wasn't much. Just fragments of mana patterns, and a faint energy trace that didn't match anything in the academy registry.

Elara leaned over his shoulder to look closer. "This mana frequency, it doesn't match any student or faculty signature."

Merlin nodded. "Exactly. It's synthetic."

Her eyes widened. "Artificial mana?"

"Mana synthesized through machinery. The kind the old labs used before the ban." He exhaled slowly. "It shouldn't exist anymore."

Elara looked at him, understanding dawning. "Which means someone's manufacturing it again."

"Yeah." He shut the tablet. "And if they're smart, they're doing it off-record, maybe even inside the city."

She nodded, her mind already racing. "Then we start there. Tonight."

"Tonight?" he echoed.

"I'll meet you by the east gate after curfew. We can trace the mana trail, it's faint, but it's still there."

He gave a low chuckle. "Breaking curfew now? I'm a bad influence."

Elara shot him a look. "Don't flatter yourself."

But there was a faint curve at the edge of her mouth that betrayed her amusement.

As the sun set, the academy slowly quieted.

The laughter, the training shouts, the hum of mana circuits, all faded into the low hum of evening.

Merlin stood near the east gate, cloak drawn tight, eyes watching the horizon. The air smelled faintly of rain-soaked earth. Elara appeared moments later, silent as ever, her silver hair tied back and her spear strapped across her back.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Always," he said.

They slipped through the gate's shadow, into the city beyond, two figures moving beneath the glow of lamplight. Neither spoke for a while. The streets were half-empty, the air still thick with moisture, every sound amplified by the quiet.

Elara finally broke the silence. "If you're right… and they're rebuilding the Veil… why now?"

Merlin's expression hardened. "Because something's coming. Something big enough that they think they need to prepare."

Elara looked at him sharply. "How do you know that?"

He didn't answer immediately.

Because he couldn't say the truth, that he'd already read this story once before. That he'd seen what was supposed to happen years from now.

Instead, he said softly, "Just a feeling."

Elara didn't press.

And maybe that was why Merlin found it so easy to keep walking beside her, even with the weight of everything he couldn't say pressing down on him.

Ahead, the faint pulse of mana shimmered faintly in the air, a trail only those attuned to it could see. Elara glanced at him. "You see it too?"

He nodded. "Let's follow it."

They turned down a narrow street. The light dimmed. The pulse grew stronger.

And somewhere in the distance, faint and rhythmic, like a heartbeat beneath the cobblestones, something stirred.

The trail led them into the industrial quarter, the part of the city few students ever visited.

The lamplight here was dimmer, swallowed by the fog that clung to the cobblestones. Towers of machinery loomed overhead, their outlines sharp and silent against the night sky. Pipes hissed faintly, releasing bursts of cold steam that twisted through the air like whispers.

Merlin walked ahead, his hand brushing the air occasionally, tracing the fading light of mana threads that only he could see. Each pulse was weak, like the dying heartbeat of a machine long past its prime, but it was enough to follow.

Elara kept pace beside him, her steps soundless, eyes glowing faintly violet in the dark. "You sure this is still the trail?"

"Positive," he murmured. "It's weak, but consistent. Someone used artificial mana here, enough that it stained the atmosphere. Like smoke after a fire."