The academy settled into evening with deceptive ease.
Lanterns ignited one by one along the walkways, floating spheres of warm amber light that softened the sharp edges of stone and shadow. The mana lattice shifted into its nocturnal configuration, drawing excess energy inward, quieting the ambient hum just enough that the place felt calmer, older, almost contemplative. Students spilled out of lecture halls in clusters, conversations turning from theory and drills to food, rivalries, rumors, and the subtle, ever-present politics of who trained with whom and why.
Merlin moved through it all like a ghost wearing a student's face.
Outwardly, nothing about him stood out more than it already had. Same uniform. Same measured stride. Same faintly distant expression people had long since learned to associate with him. Internally, however, every step felt weighted by what he now knew.
Not speculation.
Not theory.
Confirmation.
The world was reacting.
