The following days slipped into a strange equilibrium.
Nothing overt happened. No alarms, no sudden attacks, no distortions large enough to force intervention. Classes continued. Training sessions rotated. Students complained about workloads and instructors as if the world hadn't quietly adjusted its posture around one of them. On the surface, it was normal.
Underneath, Merlin felt watched—not with intent, but with measurement.
He responded in kind.
He stopped pushing his limits during sparring, allowed himself to lose exchanges he could have ended decisively, let others take the lead during group exercises. When instructors praised his restraint, he accepted it without comment. When classmates grumbled about him "finally being human," he smiled and let the joke stand.
Elara noticed everything.
