The food tasted like nothing.
Bread. Something wrapped in roasted root. A sliver of dried fruit tucked near the corner of the cloth. It was warm, but Merlin barely registered the heat.
He chewed in silence.
Elara sat beside him, legs crossed, gaze turned toward the far end of the courtyard. She didn't press. Didn't comment. Just sat there with the quiet, patient stillness of someone who understood what it meant to wait.
Halfway through the meal, he paused, fingers tightening slightly on the cloth.
No mana.
Still nothing.
The food went down. Slowly. Mechanically.
He hated how his body still accepted it. How the world hadn't collapsed around him the moment his mana vanished.
It felt like it should've. Like something as important as that should've triggered a ripple. A crack. A fracture in the sky.
But no. Just birdsong and half-warm rations.
Merlin rubbed his temple once. The headache hadn't faded since morning. It just pulsed behind his left eye like a stubborn drumbeat.
