The fire burned dry. Pop, hiss, flicker. One log cracked down its center like a spine. Sparks crawled upward and vanished.
No one spoke for a while.
The night stretched too wide for comfort, but no one huddled. They each held to their distance like it mattered. Like proximity risked something more than touch.
Merlin sat near the outer edge, not facing the fire directly. Just angled enough to see reflections on steel. To track movement without staring.
Dion broke the silence first.
Not loud. Not curious. Just casual, like slipping a dagger under the edge of cloth.
"So… the Academy."
Nathan didn't answer. Seraphina didn't twitch.
Elara glanced sideways, fingers resting on her thigh, not her blade. "What about it?"
Dion scratched at the leather bracer on his forearm. "You all came from there. Not a camp. Not a training ring. An Academy. Which sounds a lot like authority."
Merlin didn't move.
