Morning came without any of us sleeping again.
The lanterns burned low by dawn, the room filled with a pale grey light that washed the night's fear into something quieter, something less sharp. Lira rested with her head against my shoulder, still awake, eyes distant. Seris sat against the headboard, arms loosely folded but gaze fixed on me like she was refusing to look anywhere else.
She caught my eyes. "You're not going into dreams alone anymore. That's not happening."
I exhaled. "I don't know if I can control it."
Seris leaned forward. "Then we control it together."
Lira lifted her head. "Every time it reaches, we reach back. We don't let it isolate you."
My voice was raw. "But it's remembering things… things I don't understand."
Seris shook her head. "That doesn't matter. It's not your past."
"What if it was?" I asked.
Lira took my hand immediately. "Then we make your present stronger."
I looked between them—two people whose voices felt warmer than sunlight, steadier than the ground beneath me.
"What if remembering hurts?" I whispered.
"Then you hold our hands," Seris said simply. "Even if they shake."
Lira nodded fiercely. "Especially if they shake."
Something inside my chest—inside the fracture—felt like it pulled inward, like it was folding small around their words. Trying to understand them. Trying to feel what they meant.
"Can you feel it now?" Lira asked softly.
"I don't know," I answered.
Seris leaned closer. "Then listen."
I shut my eyes.
Listened inside.
The fracture pulsed—a faint echo, like distant thunder. But it wasn't loud like before. Not sharp. Not cold.
It pulsed again.
Slower. Warmer. Almost quiet.
"It's… calmer," I whispered. "It feels… still."
Lira exhaled, relief soft. "Because you're safe."
"Because we're here," Seris added.
The fracture gave a faint, soft thrum—almost a response.
I opened my eyes slowly. "I think it recognizes you both now."
Seris blinked. "Recognizes?"
Lira's voice trembled. "Like… we're part of you?"
"No," I said before I could overthink.
"Like you're part of it."
Silence filled the room.
Then Seris said quietly, "Then it better learn fast, because we're not easy to untangle from you anymore."
I almost laughed—but the emotion hit too deeply for sound.
Lira curled back against me, pressing her forehead to my shoulder, whispering into my skin, "Then we just hold you closer."
Seris rested her hand over mine, grounding, steady.
"Till it learns," she murmured. "Till you remember yourself. Till you choose us again."
I swallowed emotion that felt too heavy, too warm, too much and not enough.
"I already did," I whispered.
Lira looked up at me—eyes full, shining.
Seris inhaled sharply, shoulders easing.
The fracture pulsed again—
soft slow steady
like a heartbeat learning rhythm for the first time.
We didn't speak for a while.
We just existed—three breaths, three heartbeats, wrapped around each other like warmth itself. Lira eventually shifted enough to tuck herself closer along my side, her breath brushing softly beneath my jaw. Seris exhaled slowly and slid down next to me, leaning her back against the headboard but never letting go of my hand.
For a long moment, there was just the quiet melody of morning.
Seris spoke first, voice low. "If this thing is learning us… then we teach it the right things."
Lira nodded without lifting her head. "Love. Safety. Choice."
Seris glanced at me with something fierce and vulnerable tangled together. "Exactly."
I looked at both of them. "Teaching an ancient entity how to feel sounds insane."
Seris smirked slightly. "So does falling in love twice."
Lira turned pink instantly. "Seris—!"
I swallowed, pulse thudding louder.
They both looked at me.
And something fragile and powerful hit my chest at the same time.
Seris's voice softened more than ever. "Just so we're clear—I didn't choose this bond. But I'm choosing you."
Lira lifted her head, eyes shining. "I chose you before I even understood why."
I took a breath that wasn't steady. "I… choose both of you."
Silence—but not empty.
Full.
Warm.
Lira's hand slipped up to my face, brushing my cheek with fingertips so gentle it nearly unraveled me. "No matter what the fracture remembers… remember us harder."
Seris squeezed my hand tight. "Because we're real."
My voice broke a little. "You're real."
Lira leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my jaw, slow, tender.
Seris watched—eyes darkening, not jealous but deeply moved—and then reached, gently threading her fingers through my hair.
Not claiming. Not competing.
Just being close.
The bond pulsed warm and steady.
And the fracture pulsed too—soft, learning, absorbing.
Lira's voice was a whisper against my skin. "We're here, Arin."
Seris leaned her forehead against mine. "Always."
My chest filled, almost painfully.
Love didn't feel like a spell. It felt like breathing for the first time.
And somewhere deep inside, I felt the fracture breathe too.
We stayed like that until morning wasn't something outside the window—morning became something between us.
Eventually Lira shifted, stretching carefully so she wouldn't break contact. She rested her head over my heart, listening to something she didn't bother hiding anymore.
Seris turned fully toward us, propping her head on her hand. "You know I'm not a cuddler."
Lira smiled gently into my chest. "You are now."
Seris rolled her eyes dramatically. "I blame both of you."
Her sarcasm was soft around the edges—warm, fond. She brushed her thumb over the back of my hand, slower than before, like she was getting used to the shape of me under her touch.
"I'm trying," she said under her breath. "To be part of this."
"You are," I whispered.
Lira nodded without lifting her head. "You've always been."
Seris looked away, blinking harder than she meant to. "Then don't let me forget that."
Lira's voice was soft and fierce. "We won't."
I reached out, fingertips brushing Seris's cheek. She leaned into the touch on instinct, surprised at herself, but not pulling back.
"Seris," I said softly. "You're here. With us. That's enough."
She swallowed hard. "I don't know how to love people the way Lira does."
Lira lifted her head, eyes gentle. "You love the way you breathe—without realizing it."
Seris blinked. "That's a line."
"It's true," Lira whispered.
My hand slid down Seris's jaw. "You protect the people you love. I feel it every time you touch me."
Seris stared at me like she didn't have words to argue anymore.
Then—quietly, vulnerably—she said:
"I don't want you to forget what loving us feels like… even if something else tries to rewrite you."
"I won't," I said instantly.
Lira pressed a kiss into my shoulder. "You can forget the past. Forget everything the fracture tries to force on you. But remember this."
Seris curled closer, forehead against mine. "Remember us."
Warmth built between us again—slow, patient, certain.
Not rushed. Not desperate. Just true.
The bond pulsed.
The fracture responded.
And for the first time…I felt like we were teaching it instead of fearing it.
Teaching it what love sounded like.
What touch meant.
What choosing each other looked like.
Together.