Ezra walked the halls like she always did — too fast, eyes forward, looking for the edge of something. The woman from facilities management passed her near the stairs, the one who always smiled. This time she reached out and caught Ezra's sleeve. Ezra stopped. The woman didn't let go. She leaned in close, still smiling, but her eyes weren't kind anymore. "Don't tell anyone what you found," she said. Her voice was low and careful. "They're watching to see if you'll talk." She pressed something cold into Ezra's palm — a twisted black dagger with a purple sheen that caught the light wrong. "Keep this. You'll know when you need it." Ezra pulled her arm free and stepped back. The woman turned and walked away like nothing had happened. The dagger felt heavy and wrong in Ezra's hand. She looked down at it, then shoved it into her jacket pocket. The wire inside her chest pulled tight — not the campus tether, something else. Fear, maybe. Or the shape of a new edge she hadn't found yet. She kept walking, faster now. Past the white stone statue of the old hero with his sword raised high. Past the stairs. Out toward the limestone gazebo where the roses and blue flowers twisted up the columns. She didn't look back. The woman's smile was still there in her head, fixed and permanent. Now Ezra knew for certain — they all knew. And they wanted her quiet. That changed everything.