Morgana must have been thinking the same thing, because her voice darkened. "We suspect infiltration. Someone has been feeding the Veil details about the academy's old networks. I've already begun an internal sweep, quietly."
She turned her eyes on him again, and the weight of her gaze was almost physical. "And that's where you come in."
Merlin blinked once. "…Me?"
"You and Varen," she said. "You're the only two second-years capable of handling multi-affinity disturbances without relying on external stabilizers. You've both faced uncontrolled mana environments before. And—" her lips curved faintly, "—you both have a knack for surviving impossible situations."
"That last part doesn't sound like a compliment."
"It isn't."
He exhaled through his nose. "So what do you want me to do?"
Morgana reached into a drawer, pulling out a small black sigil plate, engraved with runic patterns that pulsed faintly blue. She slid it across the desk toward him.
