For a while, they didn't speak. The night around them felt alive, not in the chaotic way of battle or storms, but in the quiet pulse of a world that simply was. Wind stirred the ivy on the academy walls, making faint whispering sounds. Somewhere in the distance, an owl called.
"Do you ever think," Merlin said finally, "how strange it is to just… stop?"
Elara glanced sideways. "Stop?"
"After everything. The labyrinth. The tests. The little games." He exhaled slowly, eyes tracing the stars. "It feels like I'm supposed to keep moving, like if I slow down I'll wake up and all this will vanish."
Her gaze softened. "It won't vanish, Merlin."
He turned toward her. "You sound sure."
"I am." She stepped closer, her hand brushing lightly against his arm, not holding, just anchoring him there. "This is real. The air, the stone, the cold. You've bled here. That makes it real."
