Yegr waited until the midday break to make his move. Serra was always in the herb gardens between drills — in the old timeline, it was where she prepared healing tinctures for the infirmary. If she was still the Serra he remembered, that's where she'd be.
And she was.
Bent over a patch of sunleaf, fingers moving deftly, humming a soft tune. For a moment, he almost convinced himself the morning had been a trick of the light — that nothing had changed.
Almost.
He crouched beside her. "Need a hand?"
She glanced at him, smiling faintly. "I can manage."
Yegr let a few heartbeats pass, then spoke in a low voice. "The South Gate."
Her hands froze. "What about it?"
"In the siege," Yegr said carefully, "Lorran Sile held it for three days before reinforcements arrived."
She blinked, then went back to her work. "That's what the histories say."
"That's not what happened," Yegr pressed. "I was there. The siege lasted four days. Lorran wasn't there at all."
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Maybe your memory's faulty."
Yegr studied her. "Or maybe someone's rewriting more than history."
For just an instant, her gaze hardened. Then she rose, brushing soil from her hands. "Careful, Yegr. If you start digging in the wrong places, you might find something sharp."
She walked away without another word.
Yegr's pulse hammered.
She knew. She knew the timeline had changed.
Which meant the Shadowed Path wasn't just active years ahead of schedule — they were already embedded inside the Academy.
And Serra Veylan, his once most trusted friend, might be their knife in the dark.