The training hall stayed silent long after Halin dismissed us.
Not because we didn't want to leave—
but because none of us trusted our legs to move yet.
The echo of the fracture lingered like a fading bruise inside the bond, a soft throb that felt more like exhaustion than danger. I felt Lira's careful breath on my shoulder, Seris's tightening grip on my arm, and beneath both… a steady rhythm starting to return.
We sat together on the floor, backs against the rune circle, letting the last of the unstable resonance melt out of my limbs.
It was Seris who broke the silence first.
"Next time," she muttered, "we're bubble-wrapping you before training."
Lira shot her a look—but this time, it wasn't fear.
It was relief.
Real, fragile, warm relief.
Seris frowned. "What? I'm serious."
"You're ridiculous," Lira whispered—but a small smile tugged at her lips, and her fingers brushed my knuckles.
I felt that smile in the bond before I saw it.
An Honest Quiet
For a long moment, none of us spoke.
Then Lira turned to me fully, her brows pulling together. "Arin… can you hear it now? The fracture? Or is it quiet?"
I took a breath.
Listened inward.
There was still a faint pulse—like the echo of a memory I didn't own—but it was softer now. Held down by their presence.
"It's… quiet," I whispered.
Lira closed her eyes in relief, shoulders sagging.
Seris let out a low exhale she hadn't realized she was holding. Then she leaned back on her hands. "Good. Because I swear if it had tried to take you again, I would've burned this entire hall down."
"You can't burn the hall," Lira murmured.
"I can," Seris insisted. "I just shouldn't."
Despite everything, I laughed softly.
The sound surprised all three of us.
Seris's lips twitched into a crooked grin.
Lira's eyes warmed.
And for the first time since the accident, the bond pulsed not with fear,
but with calm.
The Conversation We Avoided
Eventually, Lira's quiet voice reached for me again.
"Arin… when it pulled at you—what did it feel like?"
Her question wasn't curiosity.
It was fear disguised as understanding.
I didn't lie.
"It felt like someone else's hands were inside my ribs," I murmured. "Like I was being… rewired into something I wasn't meant to be."
Lira's breath caught.
Seris's shoulders stiffened.
"But the terrifying part wasn't the pull," I added. "It was hearing you two argue. I felt the bond strain when you panicked."
Seris winced.
Lira's eyes softened with guilt.
"I didn't want to fight," Lira whispered. "I just… didn't know what to do."
Seris rubbed the back of her neck. "Yeah, well… yelling didn't help either."
I reached for both their hands.
"Fear isn't the problem," I said. "Losing each other is."
The bond pulsed once—
a soft, shimmering acknowledgement.
A New Steadiness
Lira rested her head on my shoulder again.
This time, it didn't tremble.
Seris leaned in against my other side, shoulder pressed firmly into mine.
This time, it didn't hurt.
It grounded me.
The three of us stayed like that, letting the newly strengthened bond knit itself fully.
Minutes passed.
Maybe longer.
Halin peeked into the hall once, saw us, and left without a word.
None of us moved until the sun had shifted across the floor, casting a warm glow over our intertwined hands.
Finally, Seris exhaled. "Alright," she said quietly. "We survived today. Barely. But we're stronger for it."
Lira nodded, her voice gentle. "And we'll face the next part together."
I looked at both of them.
Fear still lived in my chest—
fear of the fracture,
fear of the entity,
fear of losing control.
But stronger than that
was the warmth anchoring me from both sides.
"We will," I whispered. "Together."
The bond pulsed—
bright, steady, alive.
And for the first time since the fracture,
I felt whole again.
When we finally stood, it wasn't with the uncertainty that had carried us into training that morning. It was slower, steadier—three bodies rising in sync because the bond nudged us gently into motion.
Lira brushed dust from her robes, then reached instinctively for my sleeve, as if afraid I'd vanish the moment she looked away. Seris looped an arm behind my back, not quite touching, but close enough that her presence felt like a shield.
The fracture might still exist inside me, but it no longer felt like something waiting to break me. It felt like something the three of us had faced, together, and survived.
As we walked toward the hall's exit, the faint sunlight washed over the trio of our shadows, blending them into a single shape stretching across the stone.
Lira noticed first and paused, staring down at the silhouette that held all three of our outlines in one unbroken form. "It… fits," she whispered, almost to herself. Seris nudged her with a soft huff, half-teasing, half-gentle.
"Of course it fits. We're supposed to stand like this."
And though she said it lightly, her hand drifted to my arm again, gripping just tightly enough that I could feel how deeply she meant it.
When we stepped into the corridor, I felt something subtle—almost imperceptible—shift inside the bond.
Not a surge, not a tear, but a quiet alignment, like pieces settling into place after being shaken loose.
Whatever came next—whether the entity whispered again, whether the fracture grew restless, whether the academy trembled beneath another breach—the three of us walked forward with a new steadiness. A new certainty.
The kind born not from strength, but from choosing to stay when everything inside us threatened to run. And for the first time since the entity had spoken my name, I didn't fear the path ahead. Because I knew exactly who would be beside me when it came.
And as the door to the training hall shut behind us with a soft, echoing thud.
I realized something simple and steady: whatever the fractured past had carved into my resonance, whatever shadows the entity cast over the days ahead, I no longer feared breaking.
Not because I was stronger—but because I was no longer standing alone at the fault line.
With Lira's quiet courage on one side and Seris's fierce loyalty on the other, even the most unstable parts of me felt held, anchored, and claimed.
And for the first time, the future didn't feel like a threat. It felt like a promise.