The morning didn't arrive with sunlight.
Just pale gray pressing against the curtains, the kind that made it hard to tell whether it was dawn or some stretched-out version of night refusing to leave.
Rain still whispered against the windows. The wind scraped along the frame in thin, dragging breaths.
Merlin stirred.
Slow.
Eyes open but unfocused. He blinked once. Then again.
The ceiling above him didn't change. Still the same stonework. Still the same shallow patterns carved into the support beams—common in the faculty housing. Meant to stabilize mana flow, prevent atmospheric distortion.
'Pointless for now I guess.'
His body didn't ache like before. It felt worse.
Not pain. Not sharp. Just… hollow.
Like someone had carved out the core of him and replaced it with static.
He sat up slowly. One hand braced against the bedframe. His arm trembled. Muscles not used to carrying his own weight anymore.
The blankets slid down his shoulders.
