Morgana's presence pressed against the edges of Merlin's awareness like a cold fingertip drawing a line down his spine—not painful, not hostile, but unmistakably intentional. She wasn't observing the class anymore. She was observing him. Only him.
But she wasn't approaching.
She was waiting.
For what, Merlin wasn't sure, but the timing made his pulse tighten.
Rowan dismissed the lecture eventually, closing his notes with a decisive snap and muttering something about "practical demonstrations tomorrow." Students packed up, voices rising again as the spell of focus broke. Chairs scraped against stone. The room buzzed with that chaotic rush of people trying to leave first.
Merlin stayed seated just a heartbeat longer than the rest.
Not by choice.
Morgana's mana signature remained in the room even as students hurried out, faint as a breath against glass, but he could feel her attention settling, focusing, narrowing.
He stood slowly, gathering his things.
