But no one disagreed.
Nathan looked down at the frayed page again—the rough, ink-stained diagram, the way the portal was drawn not as a circle, but a wound. Like the page itself had bled to record it.
It explained how it stayed open so long.
Explained why it hadn't collapsed in on itself when Merlin passed through.
But not where it led.
Nathan rubbed the back of his neck, exhaling through his nose. "Okay. Next steps."
Elara's eyes narrowed slightly, already in planning mode. "Tracking mana signatures from a closed rift isn't simple. Even with the stabilizer's imprint, it would've degraded."
"Unless it was tethered somewhere," Seraphina added. "We need to find where it anchored."
Nathan looked up. "We still have access to the Barrier Management Tower, right?"
Liliana tilted her head. "That's… high-level security."
"Which is why we're not going through the front door," Nathan said with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "There's a maintenance route under the arboretum. Leads up to the lower levels."
Seraphina arched a brow. "And you know this how?"
Adrian, chewing on half a ration bar, snorted. "He fell while trying to sneak around after curfew a couple days ago."
"Don't ruin the mystique, Adrian."
Elara gave a nod. "If we're careful, we can tap into the mana tracking interface. It'll be outdated, but the residual trail might still linger."
"Then it's settled," Nathan said. "Tomorrow night."
Elara traced the edge of the book with her finger, not looking at him when she said, "You don't have to be the one going in."
Nathan shrugged. "I do."
He didn't answer right away. Not because he didn't know, but because saying it aloud would make it real.
"…Because he would've done it for me."
Elara's gaze flicked up to meet his. She didn't nod. Didn't speak.
But she didn't argue either.
That night, Nathan didn't sleep.
The dorm was too quiet again.
He sat at the windowsill, hoodie wrapped around his shoulders, knees tucked to his chest, staring out at the Academy's lights.
Nathan smiled faintly.
Then he tapped his phone and opened a message window.
He didn't know who he was writing to. Merlin, maybe. Or himself. Or something in between.
{One step closer. Don't go dying on us yet.}
Then closed the tab and got to work.
The next day Star Power Academy looked normal.
That was the worst part.
Students filled the halls. Professors carried on lectures. The sky overhead was clear, without even a whisper of the rift that had nearly torn everything open.
No one talked about it anymore.
Merlin was a ghost they didn't name.
Nathan kept his head down and moved fast.
He slipped through the training annex under the excuse of late-hour maintenance drills, ducked around the upper greenhouse where Elara had silently disabled one of the perimeter glyphs, and dropped into the tunnel system through the arboretum hatch.
And then, up into the base level of the Barrier Tower.
The hum of mana was louder here.
He found the relay panel behind the storage shelving.
The stabilizer output was still pulsing. Faint. Flickering.
Nathan pressed his tab to the interface. Glyphs bloomed across the screen in light blue.
"Come on, come on…" he whispered, watching the lines flicker.
One by one, mana traces began to compile. Direction. Pressure. Arc length. Anchoring vector.
Nathan stared at the last variable.
The last trace locked behind an admin clearance wall.
He hovered his finger over the bypass protocol. He'd lifted a dummy code from Seraphina just in case.
But before he could run it—
A voice echoed down the hallway outside.
His heartbeat climbed.
Footsteps approached. Steady. No panic—but too confident to be a student.
'Security detail. Damn it.'
He tapped the crystal interface one last time.
He dropped low and rolled beneath the shelving just as the door hissed open.
A flashlight swept across the room once.
Nathan didn't move until the door closed again.
When he finally slipped back out through the tunnel, the crystal was still warm in his hand.
But in his chest, something began to burn.
A pressure he hadn't felt before.
Not when Merlin vanished.
Not when the rift closed.
Now that they were getting close.
He tightened his grip and ran.
The cold night air bit at his skin as he slipped out from the tunnel beneath the arboretum, hood pulled low, breath shallow.
His hand gripped the mana trace crystal in his pocket like it was some fragile truth waiting to shatter.
The run back to the dorms was clean. No eyes. No alarms.
He pushed open the side door of East Dorm, footsteps silent on the tile. The halls were quiet, the hum of barrier wards steady overhead. He made it five steps toward the stairwell—
"Late for curfew, Nathan."
Like sunlight you only notice when it burns.
Vivienne Dorne stood in the hallway, her arms folded, blonde hair tied in a long braid over one shoulder.
Her instructor's jacket was half-unbuttoned, like she hadn't even bothered to pretend she wasn't waiting for him.
"…Hey, Professor," Nathan said, already shifting into damage control. "Just went for a walk."
Her eyes moved over him. "In the basement tunnel?"
Vivienne's gaze drifted to his hand.
He shoved the crystal deeper into his coat pocket.
She didn't press. She didn't need to.
Instead, she exhaled softly. "Come with me."
She led him down the empty corridor, not toward the staff offices—but to the observation balcony overlooking the West Courtyard. Where the breach had happened. Where Merlin had vanished.
The stone tiles glowed faintly with wardlight.
Vivienne leaned on the railing. "You're not the type to sneak around alone."
Nathan stayed silent.
She looked at him. "But you're not alone, are you?"
Vivienne's voice didn't change, but something behind it did. "I know what you're planning."
She went on. "You, Elara, Seraphina. Liliana. Adrian. You've all been moving in circles too clean for coincidence."
Nathan finally met her eyes. "Then why haven't you stopped us?"
Vivienne tilted her head. "Would you have listened?"
The silence stretched.
Vivienne looked back out at the night. "You think you're the only ones looking for him?"
She smiled, faintly. Not warm this time. Just tired. "You're not."
Nathan's pulse picked up. "Then why—why hasn't anyone said anything?"
"Because it's political now," she said.
"Because Morgana's keeping it quiet. Because if the wrong people find out a first-year jumped through an unstable Class-D rift and might still be alive, it stops being about him."
She didn't need to finish.
He swallowed hard. "He's still alive."
Vivienne didn't look surprised. "I know."
She turned to face him, finally stepping close enough for her voice to drop lower. "But listen, Nathan. You're not ready."
"I know you don't. That's what makes this harder."
Nathan didn't flinch. "Then help us."
Wind stirred her braid slightly, mana humming at the edge of her presence.
"I can't openly support what you're doing," she said finally. "But I can make sure no one gets in your way for a little while."
Nathan blinked. "You're covering for us?"
"I'm not helping," she said quickly. "I'm just choosing not to see everything I should."
He almost laughed. "That's basically the same thing."
"No, it's not." Her expression darkened. "It means if you're caught, I won't be able to stop the consequences."
Vivienne reached into her coat and pulled out something small—a worn, half-scorched token. "This belonged to someone who did something equally stupid once."
"Don't die," she said, voice quiet now. "You're all idiots. But you're my idiots."
He looked at her, really looked—and for a moment, he understood why Merlin had trusted her, even if he never said it.
"…Thanks," Nathan murmured.
Vivienne turned away. "Go. Before I change my mind."
Nathan didn't run this time.
Back to the dorms. Back to the plan. Back to the others waiting.
With one more person—maybe two—quietly behind them.
And just enough time left to change something.
Vivienne felt something—the same way you feel the drop in temperature before a storm, or the pressure just before lightning splits the sky.
Vivienne didn't look over her shoulder.
She simply kept her hands resting on the stone balcony rail, eyes cast toward the place Merlin had vanished.
The voice was smooth.
Vivienne didn't flinch. "You always show up when the guilt sets in, huh?"
Behind her, the air shimmered—space folding in on itself like a mirror turned backward.
When she turned, Morgana was already there.