NOVPUBMorgana vanished without a sound.
No flash. No ripple. Just absence.
The kind that made the air feel thinner afterward, like even the oxygen wasn't sure it should still be here.
Orrin leaned back in his chair.
He didn't say anything right away.
Neither did the others.
Ren was staring at the spot where she'd stood, hands laced tight in front of him. Veren had gone stiff, fingers curled near the edge of the flame-control panel like he was deciding whether to re-light the hearth or leave it dead on principle.
'She didn't come here to ask anything.'
Orrin rubbed his thumb against his ring, slow. The iron band hummed faintly with containment wards, passive, quiet. Not active.
He hadn't needed it.
But something about the room felt off now. Like the wards woven into the Council Hall were still recovering from having her inside them.
Veren finally broke the silence. "She should've gone through Safety Command."
Ren didn't look at him. "Would they have acted faster?"
Veren scowled. "That isn't the point."
"It's exactly the point."
Orrin watched both of them, quiet.
'They're afraid, but not of the Labyrinth. Not yet. Just of her.'
He didn't blame them.
He was afraid of her too.
Not the power, everyone had power. It was the way she used it.
Controlled. Measured. Like a scalpel.
She'd walked in, said Hollow Labyrinth like it was just another lecture note, and stared down three high-ranking Council mages without blinking.
And worse, she was right.
Ren finally shifted, standing and walking to the edge of the room. His voice was lower now, more grounded.
"She said it's feeding."
"Which means it's already made contact," Orrin said.
Veren turned. "You're taking her word at face value?"
"I'd take her silence over your full report."
That earned him a glare.
Orrin didn't flinch.
He stood too, slower than Ren, brushing the dust from his sleeves. He didn't like council robes. Too stiff. Too heavy. But they got him in rooms like this, and sometimes that was worth it.
"We're not stopping this," he said. "She made that clear."
"Then what do you propose?" Veren asked.
"We don't get in her way."
"And if the Labyrinth opens?"
Orrin looked at him.
"If it opens, we'll all be dead before we finish voting on protocol."
Veren flinched. Just slightly.
Ren didn't move.
Silence again.
Orrin turned to the hearth. The flame hadn't relit. He thought about igniting it just to prove a point.
Then decided not to.
'Better to let them sit in the dark a while.'
He left without saying another word.
—
They had just started moving again when the air changed.
Merlin felt it first. The subtle shift in weight. Like the hallway had dropped a few degrees without touching temperature.
He stopped walking.
Elara did too.
Nathan looked up. "What now—"
He never finished the sentence.
The space in front of them bent. Not violently. Not loud.
Just enough.
Enough to let someone step through like she had always been there.
Morgana.
She stood in the middle of the corridor like it belonged to her. Like time had decided to make space for her and nothing else.
Black coat. Perfect posture. No escort. No smile.
Just her eyes.
And they were locked on him.
Merlin didn't move.
His hands stayed loose at his sides. His heart didn't race. But something behind his ribs felt like it had snapped to attention.
She looked at Nathan. Then Elara.
Then back to him.
"I need a word," she said.
Nathan didn't speak.
Elara didn't either.
Morgana's voice wasn't loud, but it left no room for discussion.
Merlin nodded once.
She turned, not waiting to see if he followed.
Of course he did.
They walked in silence.
Past two empty classrooms. Down a side stair no one used. Through a door that wasn't locked but somehow no student had ever gone through.
It didn't take long to reach the small room at the end.
Old stone walls. No windows. One lamp hovering midair, casting low light.
Morgana stopped.
Merlin stepped inside.
The door shut behind them without a sound.
She didn't turn around.
Not at first.
"You felt it," she said.
He didn't answer.
She turned.
There was nothing soft about her expression. No warmth. Just weight.
"You know what it was."
His jaw tensed.
'So we're skipping the part where we pretend this is a conversation.'
"I know," he said.
Morgana stepped closer.
He didn't step back.
"You've seen the signs," she said. "You've known longer than anyone else. Probably before the staff. Before the council."
She tilted her head slightly.
"That's interesting."
'Not really. I just read ahead.'
He stayed quiet.
She studied him.
"You're not surprised."
"No."
"You're not afraid."
"I am," he said. "I just don't have time to be."
Her eyes flicked, just once, to the side of his coat. Where Keryx would normally be. Then back to his face.
"You're not fully recovered."
He said nothing.
She moved again, just one step closer.
"You've seen it before somewhere haven't you? But how?"
That made him pause.
Her voice lowered.
"Not here. But you've definitely seen this play out.."
His throat felt dry.
She didn't wait for a reply.
"I don't know how. I don't know what you are. But I know what it looks like when someone isn't surprised by the impossible."
For a second, the room felt smaller.
Quieter.
Then she exhaled.
"You're not going to tell me."
"No."
"Good," she said. "I wouldn't believe you anyway."
She turned again.
Not dismissing him. Just done asking.
"It's already taken someone," she said.
He knew.
"I don't know who yet," she added. "But I will."
Merlin nodded once.
Morgana paused at the door.
"We have time. Not much. But enough."
She looked over her shoulder.
"If you want to help keep this place standing, stay alive."
Then she was gone.
No flash. No light.
Just absence.
Merlin stood in the dim room, watching the space where she had been.
And he didn't move for a long time.
—
Nathan didn't say anything until they were out of sight.
Morgana and Merlin, both swallowed by a hallway that didn't seem that long until they stepped into it.
Then it just felt… quiet.
Too quiet.
He turned slightly toward Elara. "Should we be worried that she just snatched him like that?"
Elara's arms were still folded. She didn't answer.
Which wasn't a yes.
But it wasn't a no either.
Nathan looked down the hallway again. Then the other way. Then back to her.
"I'll just… walk a bit," he said.
Still no response.
Fine.
He peeled off alone.
Hands in his pockets. Mind running circles.
'That pressure thing—whatever it was—it didn't feel normal.'
It wasn't like spell backlash. It wasn't like residual magic from training grounds either. It had weight. Not the kind you carried. The kind that sat on the floor after everyone left the room.
He didn't like it.
And the silence was getting worse.
There should've been noise. Students passing through. Someone cracking open a door. The faint hum of an old mana torch left burning.
But nothing.
The farther he walked, the more obvious it became.
He didn't have a destination at first.
Just moving.
Until his feet took him toward the study wing.
Seraphina's usual haunt.
He didn't even think about it. Just turned the corner and expected to see her like she always was, reading something complicated, face neutral, barely glancing up when he annoyed her with dumb questions.
But the hallway was empty.
No footsteps. No murmur of turning pages.
The bench was there.
But she wasn't.
He slowed. Looked around.
No sign of her bag. No scribbled notes stacked beside her. No boots tucked under the corner of the seat like she always did.
Just a book. Closed. Spine facing out.
He stared at it for a second longer than he meant to.
Then walked over and picked it up.
It was hers.
That part was obvious.
What wasn't obvious was why she would leave it behind.
She never did that. Not even once.
She was careful. Methodical. Always had a plan.
He held the book tighter.
His throat felt dry.
'She wouldn't just leave.'
He turned in place, scanned the corners again. Checked the shadows near the side column. Nothing.
Just stone. Just hallway. Just air that felt like it was waiting for something.
Then he moved.
Fast.
His boots echoed hard off the tile.
No hesitation now.
He didn't have answers.
But something was wrong.
And he knew exactly who would know more than he was saying.
—
Elara hadn't moved.
She was still leaning against the same wall, arms crossed, eyes steady on the far end of the corridor. Like she was guarding something invisible.
Nathan turned the corner fast, boots hitting the stone too hard to be casual.
She looked at him the second he appeared.
And straightened.
"You're alone," she said.
He stopped a few steps from her, breathing a little harder than he meant to. His hand was still gripping the book.
He held it up.
"She's gone."
Elara's eyes narrowed. "Who?"
"Seraph."
The word came out faster than he expected.
"She's not in the study wing. Not anywhere."
Elara didn't speak.
He stepped closer. Shoved the book into her hands.
"This was sitting on the bench. Just… left there. Not open. No bag. No note. Nothing."
Elara looked at it.
Nathan kept going.
"She doesn't just leave stuff behind. You know that. She's the most obsessive planner in our entire group."
Still no answer.
Nathan's voice dropped.
"This doesn't feel right."
Elara's grip tightened on the book.
She flipped it open, checked the page, her fingers running over the spine like she needed to confirm it was real.
"She was here."
"Exactly," Nathan said. "Now she's not."
He paused. Looked at her harder.
