The decoy worked exactly as intended.
At one in the morning, the Admin Block erupted. I watched from the shadow of the West Dorm eaves as Merek and a dozen guards sprinted toward the evidence locker. The green pulse I'd triggered was a "phantom signature"—a low-grade resonance that mimicked an active summoning circle. To a Reader like Merek, it would look like I was trying to pull the Centurion through a portal.
He found a bone-scrap lantern and a handful of spent crystals instead.
I slipped back into the dorm through the laundry chute. Cael was there, wiping grease from his hands. He'd just finished jamming the external lock on the Ministry's supply wagon.
"They're busy," Cael whispered.
"They're angry," I corrected. "There's a difference."
"Does it matter?"
"It matters when the sun comes up," I said. "Blackwood doesn't like being made to look like a fool. He's going to hit back."
I was right.
