The dorm room was as quiet as a tomb.
A soft, gray morning light filtered through the window, washing over the neatly made bed and the organized desk.
Kael woke not with a start, but with a quiet, efficient awareness.
The adrenaline of the past night, the anticipation of an attack that never came, had faded, leaving behind a dull ache of exhaustion and a lingering sense of unease.
He lay for a moment, listening to the silence.
They had shown their hand, tested the city, and then retreated into silence. It was a terrifyingly tactical move.
But he didn't dwell on it. There were other pressures, more immediate and more personal, that demanded his attention.
The system, the Archive, was a colder, more relentless master than any cultist.
It didn't wait for a good moment. It didn't pause for a city's collective anxiety. It just demanded progress.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed, the motion fluid and automatic.
