Midnight made the academy feel like a different city. No student lamps, no patrol torches.
Liora met us at the service door: hair pale as new metal, soft blue eyes steady. Dorian waited behind her, hands loose.
"Cold kit only," Liora said. "No flares. No light that sings."
I tapped my pack. Bone Lantern, Bone Sapper, line, wedges, a stripped Warden frame folded flat. Marrow and Hollow sat in Shade, leashes tight.
We slipped into the Gate Four service run. I thumbed the Lantern to life. It didn't glow so much as hush the dark—a gray guttering that didn't poke the wards.
"Use the building," Dorian murmured. "Don't wrestle it."
I put my palm to the wall, felt a faint vibration—ward flow. We moved.
At the first elbow, the smell hit: pine cut with iron. The same scent from Gate Six, but sharper. Someone had refined the blend.
Liora crouched by a junction plate. "Talk to me."
