For the rest of the morning, something subtle changed—not visible, not magical in a textbook sense—but real.
Whenever Lira brushed her fingers against mine, a soft warmth pulsed in my chest in answer. But this time—it didn't just flow toward me.
Lira blinked suddenly, hand over her collarbone. "I felt that—"
Seris turned sharply. "What?"
Lira swallowed. "Warmth. Like someone took my hand from the inside."
Seris stared at me. "Arin?"
"I didn't do anything."
Lira hesitated. "Then it did."
Seris didn't get angry—not this time. Her expression slowly softened, like she was realizing something much deeper.
"It's reaching for us."
I nodded. "Not through me. With us."
Seris stepped closer, letting her fingers hover near my chest. "Do it again."
I shook my head. "It's not me doing it—"
But then the warmth pulsed again—slower, gentle, like a shy heartbeat learning rhythm.
Lira gasped softly. "Seris… you feel it too, right?"
Seris didn't answer. Her eyes widened. Her breath hitched.
"Yes."
We stood there—three people sharing a single feeling, not inside me, not inside the fracture—
between us.
Seris broke first. "…it's choosing us."
Lira whispered, eyes shining, "Not him alone."
My throat tightened. "We're not isolate lines anymore."
Seris looked down at her hand, voice cracking softly. "Arin?"
"Yes?"
She lifted her eyes—fearless, vulnerable, fierce.
"We're not just connected to you."
Lira took my other hand, voice trembling like a vow—
"We're connected to each other."
My heart—and whatever else lived inside—felt full enough to break.
Lira leaned her head against my shoulder. "We're not three lives anymore…"
Seris finished quietly—
"…we're one life shared."
And right then, the fracture pulsed inside my chest, but the warmth didn't stop with me.
It flowed outward like breath—
to Lira, to Seris, then back again.
Not mine. Not theirs. Ours.
We didn't move from that spot—not because we were scared to, but because motion might break something fragile and beautiful we weren't ready to let go of yet.
Lira's fingers tightened slightly around mine—just enough pressure to make sure I was real. "Seris… what are you feeling right now?"
Seris stared at her like she wasn't sure how to translate it. "Warmth. Fear. Relief. All tangled up." She paused. "But none of that is mine."
Lira blinked. "Mine."
Seris's eyes widened.
And suddenly, I understood—
They weren't just feeling the entity. They were feeling each other.
Lira touched her own chest. "I felt your fear for him."
Seris swallowed. "And your relief when he woke."
I looked between them slowly. "The bond isn't just flowing through me anymore."
"It's flowing between us," Lira said softly.
Seris exhaled long and slow, as if the truth hit harder spoken aloud. "Arin, this isn't your burden anymore."
I swallowed, voice rough. "It was never supposed to be."
Lira shook her head gently. "You carried it alone because you were alone." Her eyes softened with something deep. "Now you're not."
Seris stepped forward, gently touching Lira's hand—not forceful, not teasing, just present.
"We're all carrying each other now."
The bond pulsed through our fingertips, through our hearts, through the fracture, through everything we were.
One presence. Three people. No division anymore.
Lira leaned her forehead against mine again—her favorite softness. "You don't disappear into it…"
Seris leaned in on the other side, steadying me. "…we disappear into each other."
The warmth pulsed again.
Not mine. Not theirs. Ours.
And for a moment— I didn't have to be strong. I just had to be held.
We ended up sitting on the floor of the room—backs against the bed, shoulders touching, knees tangled by accident and then on purpose. None of us seemed willing to move farther than a breath from each other.
Seris didn't try to pretend she wasn't affected. Her voice was low, a little shaky. "If we separate… does it hurt?"
Lira hesitated. "Try moving your hand."
Seris slid her fingers an inch from mine—
and the bond pulled lightly, like a tiny gravity tug.
We all felt it.
Not pain.
Just a soft ache.
Like longing.
Seris stared. "It wants contact."
Lira whispered, emotional catching up to realization. "Not physical contact—emotional contact."
My throat tightened. "Love."
Seris looked at me, eyes softened around the edges. "…that's a problem I don't mind having."
Lira smiled through a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. "It's not asking us for power."
"No," I said quietly. "It's asking not to be alone."
We shifted closer naturally, without thinking—thigh to thigh, hip to hip, shoulders leaning until no space existed between us at all.
It wasn't romantic because we forced it.
It was romantic because distance suddenly felt foreign.
Lira curled her hand around mine and rested her cheek against my shoulder. "I don't want to be away from you anymore."
Seris leaned her head back against the bed frame, eyes closing. "I can't believe I'm saying this—but I don't either."
My voice broke—just a little. "You stay because you want to."
Lira looked up, eyes shining. "And because you need us."
Seris opened her eyes and met mine—unflinching, raw. "And because we need you, Arin. The both of us."
The bond pulsed warm. The fracture pulsed soft. Three hearts, one rhythm.
Lira slid closer, resting against my chest. Seris shifted until her leg pressed against mine, shoulder touching shoulder.
No words needed.
Just closeness. Just breath. Just belonging.
And soon enough, we drifted into sleep—
not apart, but together, held in a single heartbeat that used to be broken…
…until we loved it whole.
Somewhere in the night—maybe minutes later, maybe hours—I woke just enough to notice something strange:
I wasn't afraid of the dark anymore.
Not because the room was safe. Not because the academy was safe. But because they were warm against me— on both sides— like anchors that didn't need chains.
Lira's hand was curled over my heart again, not gripping, not holding, just resting there like she belonged exactly in that space.
Like she was keeping watch without staying awake.
Seris's arm lay across both our waists, protective even in sleep, fingers tangled loosely with mine through the blankets.
She didn't know how to hold softly—but with us, she tried.
And the fracture… it wasn't restless. It wasn't calling. It wasn't searching.
It was quiet.
The kind of quiet that feels earned.
I felt it pulse gently through my ribs—not demanding attention, just reminding me it was there. And then something new spread outward—a warmth that moved from me… into them.
Seris murmured in her sleep, shifting closer. Lira sighed softly and pressed her cheek against my chest.
They felt it.
And I understood something important in that moment:
We weren't comforting the fracture anymore.
It was comforting us.
I let out a slow breath, emotions softening inside like melted snow. "We're okay," I whispered.
I didn't know if I meant me, or them, or all three of us together…
or the presence inside our bond.
Maybe all of it.
Maybe that didn't matter anymore.
Lira stirred just enough to whisper against my skin, "Stay," before drifting again.
Seris didn't need to speak—the weight of her arm around us said everything louder.
I whispered back—barely a breath—
"I'm not going anywhere."
This time when I closed my eyes, I didn't fall asleep because I was tired—
I fell asleep because I finally wanted to.