Marien didn't move.
Neither did Leon.
The courtyard between them stayed silent, moonlight sharp as blades on the old stone.
Her crest burned darker now—no colour, just shadow. Like it absorbed the light instead of casting any. It curled above her like a halo turned upside-down.
"You're not supposed to be here," he said.
Her smile didn't reach her eyes. "Neither are you."
Leon took a step forward.
Marien matched it.
Ashveil pulsed at his side, its weight cold and steady. Thornblade still hung from his belt.
She tilted her head. "Did you think they wouldn't bring me? That House Thorne's last mistake wouldn't be tested too?"
"You vanished. Before the Awakening. No one's seen you since."
"No," she said. "I was taken."
The air between them cracked. The ground under Leon's boots shifted, not from quake—but pressure.
Marien stepped closer. Her aura flickered. "The Unbroken Mark suits you. But you're still trying to make the walls forget who we are."
