Elara closed the distance fast enough that grass bent under her momentum. She didn't grab Merlin, didn't shove Morgana away—she simply placed herself halfway between them, the spear angled downward but ready to snap upward the instant anything felt wrong. Shade brightened, its glow flickering like a frantic heartbeat, circling Merlin's shoulder in loops too tight and quick to be healthy.
"What happened?" Elara asked, voice low but edged with tension. Her eyes flicked over Merlin, then to Morgana, then back to Merlin again. "I felt—something. It wasn't mana. It felt like someone pressed on my ribs from the inside."
"That was it," Morgana said flatly, as if answering a question Elara hadn't fully formed.
Elara bristled. "I wasn't speaking to you."
Morgana raised one eyebrow. "And yet, I answered."
