He didn’t take the stairs back up.

He moved through the side halls—quiet, shadowed, half-lit by dormant glyphs that hadn’t spoken in years.

The pendant against his chest hummed with soft warmth.

Not pulsing like before.

Now it just… resonated.

Like it had found something to echo with, and wasn’t ready to let go.

When he returned to the dorm, the lights were low.

Kaelen’s boots were near the door. Yolti’s scarf was draped over the railing. Selka’s coat was folded perfectly at the edge of her bunk.

It felt like a memory.

It was.

Zephryn moved quietly through the space, unwrapped his scarf, and sat on the edge of his bed.

He didn’t lie down.

He stared out the window.

The stars above Celestis Veil were sharper than he remembered.

Too sharp.

As if the world had been softened all this time… and now, suddenly, it had teeth again.

“You’re humming.”

Yolti’s voice. Low. Groggy. Not accusing.

He didn’t turn.

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

A pause.

“But I heard it anyway.”

Zephryn finally looked over his shoulder.

She was sitting up in her bunk, hair tousled, eyes half-lidded but watching him fully.

“What did you see?” she asked.

He hesitated.

“Nothing I can name.”

“But it named you, didn’t it?”

He didn’t answer.

Yolti didn’t press.

She just lay back down and pulled the scarf tighter around her neck.

“Get some sleep, flameheart,” she said, voice drifting.

“You burn louder when you’re quiet.”

Outside, one of the upper spire windows flickered.

A cloaked figure stood behind it, gloves bearing a faint silver design.

Doctrine wasn’t guessing anymore.

They were watching.

And the hum inside Zephryn’s chest?

It didn’t fade.

It grew.