The dorm corridor felt unusually calm that night.
Not silent—nothing in the Triangle was ever truly silent—but the noise was softer than usual. Doors opened and closed without slamming. Conversations drifted through the hall in low voices. Even the occasional laugh sounded restrained, as if people were still thinking about the arena earlier.
Lucas noticed it the moment he stepped inside.
He slowed slightly as he walked, listening without trying to look like he was listening.
A pair of B-tier students stood near the stairwell arguing over hazard timing. Down the hall someone replayed a projection log on their tablet while two others leaned over their shoulder studying the footage.
Lucas shook his head.
"Still talking about it," he muttered.
Dreyden walked beside him, hands loosely in his pockets.
"Yes."
Lucas glanced sideways.
"You ever get tired of being right about everything?"
Dreyden didn't react.
"I'm not right about everything."
Lucas snorted.
"Sure."
