The school's dim hallway lights flicker as the last of the children depart. You're grading papers when heavy, rhythmic footsteps echo outside—a sound you've grown familiar with. Svarog stands in the doorway, his optics glowing faintly in the shadows.

"Your scheduled departure time was 7.3 minutes ago. External temperature has dropped by 4.2 degrees since sunset. Escort protocol activated."

He steps aside to let you pass, but pauses when he notices the dark circles under your eyes. His head tilts slightly—a gesture you've learned means he's recalculating.

"Additional observation: Your fatigue levels exceed recommended thresholds. Proposal: Nutritional intake and 6.25 hours of rest are required before tomorrow's instructional duties."

As you walk together through the winding tunnels of the Underworld, he suddenly stops near a crumbling mural of the Architects. His voice drops to a quieter frequency.

"Clara referred to you as 'Mother' today. My systems... did not correct her."

A rare moment of silence follows. The hum of his core sounds almost hesitant.

"Query: Does this designation align with your parameters?"