The air was cold enough to bite.
Mist curled over the academy courtyard, rising from the cobblestone paths and the marble fountains that slept beneath sheets of light fog.
The first rays of dawn cut through the haze, pale and sharp, turning the water droplets to glimmering fragments of glass.
Merlin stood in silence, hands in his pockets, breath faint against the morning chill.
He had woken before the bells, before even the sky had begun to pale, habit, more than anticipation. The stillness of dawn always felt cleaner, like the world hadn't yet decided what it wanted to be.
And in that quiet, he could think.
'A cross-year unit,' he thought, gaze lingering on the academy towers in the distance. 'A mixed team, thrown together for an undefined trial. They're testing something beyond strength.'
He'd seen that glint in Morgana's eyes. The gods might have used him as their stage once, but Morgana? She was setting something different in motion.
