We didn't rush out of the training hall.
None of us spoke.
Halin's words echoed in my bones—"It is becoming you."
That sentence didn't leave room to breathe. Or think. Or be okay.
Seris walked at my left, jaw clenched tight enough to ache. Lira walked at my right, fingers twined through mine like she could anchor me to the present by touch alone.
The moment the training doors shut behind us, I stopped walking.
I didn't trust my legs. Or my voice.
Seris turned immediately, stepping in front of me, hand hovering near my shoulder but not grabbing—giving me space to choose her touch.
"Arin. Look at me."
I did.
And her expression was raw.
"You're not losing yourself," she said fiercely. "No matter what Halin thinks."
Lira stepped closer, voice quiet but sure. "You're not changing into someone else. You're letting someone else heal through you."
I swallowed. "But what if that's not all?"
Lira cupped my cheek gently. "Then love more. That's our answer. Not fear."
Seris breathed in shakily and pressed her forehead to mine. "You taught us how to stay. Now let us teach you."
I shook my head slightly. "You shouldn't have to teach me how to be me."
Seris's fingers slid down to my jaw, steady, grounding. "We're not. We're reminding you."
Lira leaned onto my shoulder, soft and warm against the shaking. "Even if you become more than Arin… you'll never be less than ours."
Something cracked open inside me.
Raw. Tight. Relieved.
"I'm scared," I whispered.
Seris answered instantly. "Then be scared with us."
Lira added, voice trembling, "Just don't be scared alone."
My chest ached so hard I didn't know what to do with the feeling building there—so I closed the distance between us, arms wrapping around both of them in a way that felt instinctive, necessary, grounding.
Seris hugged me back fiercely. Lira hugged me gently. Two opposites holding me in one piece.
And somewhere deep inside— the fracture pulsed again.
Soft.
Warm.
Steady.
Lira exhaled. "There. You feel that?"
I nodded.
Seris pressed her lips to my forehead—quick, protective, reverent. "That's not losing yourself."
And for the first time,
I believed her.
We went back to the training hall later that afternoon, not because we were told to, but because none of us could pretend this was normal anymore.
Halin already had runes prepared when we arrived—new ones. Not the standard bonding formations. Something older. Something that looked like they'd been dragged from a forgotten archive and reconstructed with trembling hands.
Seris raised a brow. "That's… different."
"Ancient," Lira whispered.
Halin didn't look up. "Correct."
Seris crossed her arms. "And probably dangerous."
Halin finally faced us. "So is everything about you now."
I flinched. Lira's hand rose to my shoulder. "Then teach us."
Halin studied her—like she was evaluating not the question, but the willingness behind it.
Then she nodded. "Sit. All three."
We knelt in a triangular shape, but when Halin lifted her palm and touched the center rune—
the runes rearranged themselves.
Not glowing. Shifting.
Lines of light curled outward, connecting our positions into a single shape—not a triangle, but a spiral that wound toward the center.
Lira gasped softly. "This isn't a triad spell."
Halin exhaled. "It's a triad becoming a singularity."
Seris blinked. "That sounds terrible."
"It's not," Halin said quietly. "It's unprecedented."
She stepped back.
"Normally, resonance amplifies similarity and balances difference. But with you three—"
She motioned toward me.
"Difference is the foundation."
My heart hammered. "Meaning what?"
Halin's eyes locked onto mine.
"You were never meant to resist the fracture. You were meant to complete it."
Silence. Heavy.
Seris leaned forward. "Complete?"
Halin looked between us, voice trembling almost imperceptibly.
"It will not be its own thing anymore."
Lira's eyes widened. "It will become us?"
Halin hesitated—then said it:
"It already is."
The runes pulsed once—a deep golden wave.
Our bonds pulsed in answer.
And deep inside my ribs— the fracture pulsed for the first time without pain at all.
Warm.
Bright.
Present.
Seris whispered, voice shaken:
"…Arin… it feels like it's breathing."
Halin nodded.
"It is."
Lira trembled. "Then what are we becoming?"
Halin answered softly, almost reverently—
"Something the academy has no language for."
None of us spoke at first.
The runes stayed glowing beneath us, spiraling continuously like they were mapping something new every second—adjusting, rewriting, learning us as we learned each other.
Lira placed her palm over the center glow, breath trembling softly. "Halin? If this isn't academy magic, then what is it?"
Halin folded her arms behind her back—an old scholar posture, but her hands weren't steady. "Something older. Something from before fracturing was ever documented."
Seris frowned. "Meaning what?"
"Meaning the fracture once belonged to something—not someone."
I tensed. "Something?"
Halin nodded slowly. "Something that felt."
A chill ran through me.
Lira whispered, "It was alive."
Halin met her eyes. "Yes. But not physically."
Seris leaned forward. "Then what type of existence are we dealing with?"
"A presence," Halin said carefully. "A consciousness without form."
Lira's voice softened. "Dream-like?"
"Dreaming," Halin corrected. "Until now."
My pulse skipped. "And now?"
Halin took a long breath. "Now it is waking."
Seris clenched her hands against her knees. "Through Arin."
"No," Halin said quietly. "Through all of you."
Lira looked at me—fear and wonder mixing in her gaze. "Then that warmth we felt…"
"…was it," Halin finished. "Feeling safety for the first time."
Something inside me twisted—aching in a way I didn't have words for.
Seris stared hard at the center rune. "So what happens when it's fully awake?"
Halin didn't answer immediately.
When she finally spoke, her voice was almost a whisper:
"Then it remembers why it existed."
Silence. Too heavy.
I swallowed hard. "And if that memory is dangerous?"
Halin turned to me, eyes heavy with something that made my stomach knot.
"Then it will choose what it becomes next. Based on you."
Lira's breath caught. "Then we're not just part of it…"
Seris finished, voice low. "We're shaping it."
Halin nodded once.
"Exactly."
The runes pulsed deeper, glowing from gold into something warmer—almost sunset-colored, soft at the edges, beautiful in a way magic shouldn't be.
And inside me—it pulsed in answer.
Not fear. Not demand. Not hunger.
Just presence.
And then something impossible—
gratitude.
My chest tightened with emotion so sudden I could barely breathe.
Lira leaned into me immediately. "Arin?"
Seris grabbed my shoulder. "What's happening?"
I closed my eyes.
"It's thankful."
Both girls fell silent.
And even Halin breathed in sharply—like she hadn't prepared for that answer at all.