Nathan went to Merlin and Victoria's apartment and Victoria actually let him inside…
He stood just inside the door, one hand still on the knob of Merlin's room.
The room was exactly as it had been when Nathan peeked in earlier.
Merlin had been neat. Not because he liked order, but because it was efficient. Everything had its place. Even chaos.
Nathan stepped inside and closed the door behind him.
He'd tried to stay in his own room. Really, he had.
But every corner of it felt too loud.
The silence in this room? It was the kind that curled around his bones and whispered. The kind that didn't lie.
Nathan dropped onto the bed.
Of course it didn't. Merlin had stiff sheets. Tight corners. Like the mattress had been taught discipline.
He stared at the ceiling.
"You dumbass," he muttered.
The ceiling didn't reply.
The last thing Merlin had said to him was Hold the line.
Like they were in a war film. Like he was supposed to salute or something. Nathan hadn't even said goodbye. Just shouted his name and ran too slow to catch him.
He pressed his palms to his face.
'You always acted like you didn't care. Like everyone else was too slow. Too loud. Too soft. But you still jumped. You still protected them. You still protected me.'
Nathan sat up slowly. Rubbed the back of his neck. Everything hurt and nothing bled.
He got up and crossed the room. His hand hovered above the desk drawer.
He couldn't bring himself to.
He sat in Merlin's chair and folded forward, arms on the desk.
Like if he was quiet enough, maybe Merlin would come back. Maybe the door would open and he'd walk in, say something sarcastic, and tell Nathan to get out of his chair.
He couldn't just stay still whilst his friends was disappearing somewhere.
Nathan decided to make his way towards Elara's room in the dormitory.
The hallway curved gently to the right, past the stairwell and the training lounge. Elara's door was three rooms down, fifth on the left.
He stopped in front of it.
He knocked again, louder.
Nathan frowned and reached down, testing the handle.
He pushed the door open.
She was sitting on the floor, back against her bed, long silver hair unbound and trailing down over her shoulders. Her knees were drawn to her chest. Her spear leaned in the corner, untouched.
Not in a peaceful way.
The kind of silence you only got after the crying had already stopped.
Nathan stepped inside.
"You always leave your door unlocked for handsome guests?" he said gently.
He took that as permission and sat down across from her, legs stretched out, head against the wall.
They didn't speak for a while.
The quiet between them wasn't awkward.
Finally, Elara asked, "Did you search around his place?"
Nathan shook his head. "Didn't want to find anything."
"Yeah." He exhaled. "Still didn't want to."
Then she said, "They think we should wait."
She nodded once. "Vivienne. Morgana. Everyone."
Nathan rolled his eyes. "Of course they do."
"They probably think he's already dead."
Nathan didn't answer.
Elara turned her head slightly, just enough to look at him. "You don't."
He snorted. "You don't either."
"Then that makes two of us."
Then she added, voice low: "Liliana wants to start planning. Adrian too."
Nathan let his head fall back against the wall. "Figures. That dumbass would probably run into another portal just to prove a point."
"She wouldn't be alone."
Nathan tilted his head. "You going too?"
Elara looked back at the wall. "If it was you," she said quietly, "he'd go."
Nathan was quiet a long time.
'He didn't hesitate. Didn't ask for help. Just made the decision for all of us.'
"I hate him for this," Nathan muttered. "Just a little."
Elara didn't disagree.
They both sat in silence a while longer.
Finally, Nathan stood. "Get dressed properly."
Elara blinked. "Why?"
"Because if we're doing this—finding him, planning it, whatever—we need to make a proper plan with the others."
Then, slowly, she took it.
He pulled her up, steadying her with one hand on her elbow.
"I don't know where he is," Nathan said. "I don't even know where to start."
"Doesn't matter," Elara replied, brushing her hair behind her ear.
Nathan grinned faintly. "That's the spirit."
They left the room together.
With this the whole group had made a decision.
And none of them were going to let him stay missing.
But something in the walls hummed too loud.
Not in volume—just in rhythm. Off-beat. Wrong. Like the place was breathing, and it had hiccups it didn't want to explain.
Back against the console.
Keryx resting across his knees.
Hours passed like frost forming on glass—slow, fragile, and useless.
When the lights finally dimmed further—some automated sleep cycle built into the lab—he stood.
The vault door waited.
Still melted. Still sealed.
'Energy still alive. Meaning something still in there is functioning.'
Not out of fear. Out of caution.
Because fear came from not knowing.
And he knew too much to be afraid.
His fingers skimmed along the warped frame. The override slot had melted inward, like someone overloaded the internal circuits on purpose. A failsafe, probably. The emergency shut.
'Then how is the power still running?'
He traced the door's edge with a wind-imbued fingertip, careful not to trigger a spark. The mana traces across the frame pulsed in response.
Let wind, lightning, and space spiral together—not for combat.
To dissect the flow of mana—not as an attack, but as a language.
The door didn't resist.
Static filled his ears. Not sound. More like… feedback. Thought-form.
A memory echoing off steel.
Don't let them open it.
Don't let them open it.
His chest rose and fell—once, sharply.
'It's not locked. It's more like guarding something.'
The logic was simple.
Something had been locked behind here not to trap it.
But to stop it from being used.
That didn't stop him.
He set one hand flat against the center of the vault.
A pulse of space-cutting energy surged forward—disengaging melted joints without tripping the lock.
Not the kind that waited. The kind that remembered.
'…I'm not even going to jinx it at this point.'
He stepped inside with a sigh.
The East Wing was not a lab, or at least it didn't seem like one.
It was more of a preservation chamber.
Rows of cryogenic pods lined the walls—dozens of them. Some shattered. Some flickering. Others intact.
Inside the intact ones—shapes.
Another with feathers instead of hair.
A third with wires embedded in its spine.
All of them sleeping. All of them were alive.
He stepped closer to one.
The nearest pod's display flickered erratically.
Subject 03: Containment Stable
Status: Biotype Unregistered
Override Access: Restricted
Last Neural Pulse Detected: 77 Hours Ago
His pulse ticked upward slightly.
'They're not dead. They're dreaming. Or worse—waiting.'
Whatever this place had been, it wasn't just a lab.
A vault of weapons. Deadly weapons.
And someone had wanted them kept here.
The door was still open.
And he realized then—
He wasn't the first to come in here.
One pod near the far end had been opened from the inside.
He moved toward the empty pod.
Each step was deliberate, measured.
The kind of movement that made no noise.
[Don't wake whatever the silence is hiding.]
The door to the pod had been forced open—hinges buckled, not disengaged. There were drag marks on the floor. Subtle. Like something had crawled out.
Or been dragged out. But no blood. No mana distortion.
It was just an absolute absence.
'Whoever—or whatever—it was, they knew how to leave no trace.'
He crouched beside the interface.
Subject 00 — Classification: Denied
Last Movement Logged: 3 Days Ago
He'd only been here one night.
That meant it escaped before he arrived.
But the facility hadn't looked disturbed.
And the other doors had remained sealed.
'Is it still inside?'
That was the only answer.
Not through the breach. Still here.
Somewhere in the deeper tunnels.
Watching. Perhaps waiting for something.
Merlin stood slowly, hand drifting toward the hilt of Keryx.
The low scrape of something metallic dragging across tile.
Down one of the dark auxiliary corridors branching off the East Wing.
Merlin turned his head just slightly.
Didn't move his feet.
Didn't even breathe. No, he couldn't.
The sound came again.
The shadows pulsed slightly—just at the edge of his vision.
Lightning hummed at the tip.
'Whatever's down here it definitely isn't here to make friends with me.'
'And it's not asleep.'
Right behind his shoulder. He couldn't even feel the presence until he heard the voice.
It was soft, feminine. It felt completely wrong.
"You're not supposed to be here, you know."