Elira did not waste time.
She waited until the corridor thinned out, until the academy noise faded into something distant and manageable. The lamps along the stone walls flickered softly, reacting to the residual magic from class. It made the place feel unstable, like the building itself was listening.
"You felt it, didn't you," she said, walking beside me like this was casual. "The way the spell matrices reacted to you."
I shrugged. Not because I did not feel it, but because acknowledging it felt like signing something I had not read yet.
"It was a basic synchronization drill," I said. "Everyone felt something."
She smiled, the kind that does not argue. The kind that files your statement away and moves on.
"That is not what I meant."
We stopped near the open balcony overlooking the inner courtyard. Students below laughed, practiced minor cantrips, lived normal academy lives. The contrast annoyed me more than it should have.
"Elira," I said. "You did not pull me aside just to talk about class performance."
"Correct." She leaned against the railing, eyes forward. "I am here because time is no longer a luxury we can pretend to have."
There it was. The shift.
I waited.
"The Second Expedition has gone silent," she said. "Completely."
I did not react. Not because I was calm, but because I already knew. You do not get pushed this hard unless something breaks.
"Search teams?" I asked.
She shook her head. "Denied. Politically impossible. Militarily worse. Sending force signals intent, and intent draws attention."
"From who."
"Everyone."
I turned to her then. "So why are you telling me this."
She finally looked at me. Really looked. Not the polite observer gaze she usually wore, but something sharper, more evaluative.
"Because the empire is done sending swords into the dark," she said. "Now we send minds."
I laughed once, short and dry. "You are kidding."
"I am not."
"I am fourteen."
"You are capable."
"That is not the same thing."
She exhaled slowly, like she had practiced this part and still disliked it.
"We are not asking you to lead soldiers," she said. "Not publicly. Not officially. We need a strategic core. Someone who can model unknown variables without defaulting to doctrine."
"That sounds like a scholar's job."
"Scholars freeze when the model breaks," she replied. "You adapt."
There it was again. That word. Like it was a compliment and a sentence at the same time.
"You want me to design a search expedition," I said. "One that does not look like a search expedition."
"Yes."
"And if it fails."
She did not answer immediately.
"If it fails," she said carefully, "then nothing changes. Officially."
I leaned against the stone, suddenly very aware of my heartbeat.
"So this is deniable," I said. "If it works, the empire benefits. If it does not, I was just a student with ideas."
"That is how systems survive," she said. "Clean edges. Minimal liability."
I stared at the courtyard again. A group of first years cheered as a light construct finally stabilized. No one down there knew what she was asking me to step into.
"You said lead," I said. "Now you are saying design."
She tilted her head. "Leadership takes many forms."
"That is corporate speak."
She smiled faintly. "You are learning."
I shook my head. "Why me. Really."
She hesitated. Just a fraction too long.
"Because you think like someone who has already lost," she said. "And people like that do not waste moves."
That landed harder than I expected.
"You have been watching me," I said.
"Yes."
"For how long."
"Since before you noticed me."
I clenched my jaw. "That is not reassuring."
"It is honest."
Silence stretched. The lamps flickered again, reacting to something I could not name.
"You want me to plan a way into the mountain," I said. "A place that swallowed two sanctioned expeditions. Without authority. Without resources. Without acknowledgment."
"Yes."
"And if I say no."
She met my gaze, no smile now.
"Then the empire proceeds without you," she said. "Slower. Louder. Bloodier. And when it fails again, it will not be because no one warned them."
That was the hook. Clean, efficient, ruthless.
I laughed again, softer this time. "You really know how to sell."
"I am not selling," she said. "I am escalating."
I pushed off the railing. "You are using me."
"Yes."
The honesty almost disarmed me.
"You are not even pretending," I said.
"There is no value in pretending with you," she replied. "You see through it. That is the problem. And the solution."
I ran a hand through my hair, thoughts colliding. Old instincts rising. The ones I thought I buried when I decided to slow down.
"And what do I get," I asked.
She paused.
"Access," she said. "Records. Maps. Restricted theories. And a voice."
"A voice where."
"In rooms you are not supposed to exist in."
I looked at her. "That is not enough."
She nodded. "I know."
Then she said it.
"You also get the truth," Elira said. "About the mountain. About the expeditions. And about why you were reborn into a world that keeps circling that place like a wound."
My chest tightened.
"That is not something you can promise," I said.
"No," she agreed. "It is something I can unlock."
Another silence. Heavier now.
"You are crossing lines," I said.
"So are you," she replied. "Every time you pretend you are just a student."
I closed my eyes for a moment. Thought of the classroom. Of the way magic bent when I touched it. Of the feeling I hated, the one that whispered forward, not safe.
When I opened them, she was watching me like someone waiting for a signature.
"I will not be your pawn," I said.
She nodded once. "Good."
"I will not be responsible for lives I cannot protect."
"Understood."
"And if I do this," I continued, "I do it my way."
Her smile returned, sharper now. Satisfied.
"That was always the assumption."
I turned to leave.
"Wait," she said.
I stopped.
She spoke quietly. "This is not about recovery."
I glanced back.
"It is about prevention," she said. "The next expedition will not be lost. It will be changed."
I frowned. "Changed how."
She looked past me, toward the darkening horizon.
"That," she said, "is what we need you to figure out."
I walked away without answering.
Behind me, Elira stayed at the railing, watching the academy lights flicker like stars that did not know they were already part of a map.
And somewhere far beyond the empire's borders, the mountain waited.
Not silent.
Just patient.