Merlin didn't rise to the bait.
Didn't argue.
Didn't look away.
Because Morgana wasn't warning him anymore.
She was informing him.
And that meant whatever she sensed… wasn't theory.
It was close.
Close enough that even she couldn't ignore it.
He kept his voice level. "You're assuming there is something tethered."
Morgana exhaled a quiet almost-sigh—disbelief wrapped in amusement.
"Oh, Merlin."
Her gaze slid past him, as if studying something not quite behind him but around him—an outline only she could see.
"Assumptions are for professors who teach entry-level theory. I don't assume."
A soft ripple of mana drifted out from her, too subtle for any second-year to notice. But Merlin felt it skim his skin—felt reality bend just slightly, like she was running her hand along the grain of the world itself.
And something—silent, invisible—brushed back.
Morgana's smile sharpened. "There. Again."
Merlin's blood chilled.
"…I didn't feel anything."
