The morning after the Nuller attack felt strangely quiet.
Not peaceful — more like the brief stillness after a storm, when everyone checks themselves for damage they were too busy to feel the night before. The Academy courtyard was usually buzzing at this hour, but today, Lyria could hear the wind more clearly than the students. It whistled down the eastern columns, carrying the faint metallic hum of energy conduits stabilizing after the previous night's chaos.
Lyria tightened the strap of her glove and exhaled slowly.
Her Link Spark pulsed — faint, unsteady, as if replaying the danger again and again.
And beneath it, she sensed something else.
A second pulse.
A familiar one.
Kairo.
He approached with measured steps, his Skyblade Spark contained but bright around the edges, like a storm behind glass. "You didn't sleep," he said quietly.
She blinked. "How can you tell?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Your spark is jittery. And… your eyes."
His voice softened. "They look like they argued with the night."
She looked away before he could read more. "I'm fine."
"You're not."
He stepped closer, not invading her space — just… near enough that she felt steadier. "And that's okay. Yesterday was a lot."
The bond flickered between them — a small, warming spark-thread, fragile but undeniable.
She felt his worry, faint but sincere.
He felt her exhaustion, and something like fear.
It wasn't overwhelming, but it was… real.
And new.
Before either of them could say more, alarms blared.
A sharp ring vibrated through the courtyard, disrupting the spark-thread between them.
"Containment Fault — South Wing."
"Instability Detected."
Kairo's expression shifted instantly. "We need to go."
Lyria nodded, breath catching, spark vibrating against her ribs.
They ran — side by side — the bond pulling them into sync even as their footsteps echoed off the walls.
THE CRACKING CORE
The South Wing glow chamber was never meant to flicker.
But now — it stuttered dangerously, blue light splitting apart in unstable, jagged arcs. Students had already evacuated, leaving only a few trembling instructors.
"Core destabilization?" Lyria asked, heart pounding.
"Not exactly," Kairo said, analyzing the readings. "It's reacting to something. Or someone."
Lyria's spark throbbed — hard enough to make her breath hitch.
Kairo noticed instantly.
"Lyria."
He stepped in front of her. "Is it pulling toward you?"
She swallowed. "Yes. Something in that chamber is connecting with my spark."
He took a steady breath, his voice sharper now — protective, focused.
"I won't let it pull you in. Not again."
The bond flared — a low hum like two notes brushing against each other.
Lyria felt a sudden heat in her chest, not painful but intense, like an unseen hand tugging her forward. She stumbled.
Kairo caught her by the arm — firm, grounding.
"You're not going in alone," he said.
The chamber lights flared wildly, arcs of unstable power reaching outward.
Lyria felt the pull grow stronger.
Her pulse misfired.
Her spark responded instinctively, flowing toward the crackling chamber.
"I can't stop it—" she gasped.
"Yes, you can."
Kairo's voice dropped to a deep, steady note, the one he only used when he needed her attention above all else.
"Listen to my spark. Not the chamber."
She tried.
The chamber roared louder.
Her spark surged, trying to answer it.
Her breath stuttered.
Kairo stepped closer — close enough that she felt warmth radiate from him.
His Skyblade spark ignited across his palms in steady, shimmering silver.
"Lyria," he said quietly, "look at me."
She did.
And something inside her steadied.
For a heartbeat, the world shrank to the space between them — to his steady breath, his bright, calm energy, the way he seemed anchored even in the storm of a failing containment chamber.
The bond flickered.
Soft.
Warm.
Then stronger than before.
Her spark synced with his for one breath, then another.
She felt her pulse steady — not perfectly, but enough.
Then the chamber cracked wide, a violent arc of energy exploding outward toward them.
Kairo reacted instantly.
He shifted, pulling Lyria behind him as he struck the air with a burst of Skyblade energy that shattered the arc into harmless sparks.
The room fell silent for a single second — and Lyria realized she was gripping his uniform sleeve tightly.
She let go quickly.
He didn't move away.
"You okay?" he asked.
Her throat tightened. "You jumped in front of that blast."
He shrugged lightly. "It wasn't going to hit you."
"That's not the point," she whispered.
He paused, then said softly:
"It is to me."
Her breath stilled.
Before either of them could speak another word, the ground trembled.
The chamber core surged again — worse this time.
Lyria gasped as her spark was yanked forward violently.
This wasn't curiosity.
This was a call.
Her knees buckled.
Kairo caught her again, but this time she felt something sharper — his spark tightening with worry.
"What's happening?"
"It's—"
She clutched her chest.
"It's like the chamber is locking onto my spark. Like it wants to bond to me."
Kairo's expression hardened.
"Absolutely not."
He knelt in front of her, hands bracing her shoulders gently.
"Lyria, listen. You are not a danger. You're not unstable. The chamber is malfunctioning — not you."
She pressed her forehead to his shoulder briefly — not intentional, not romantic, but instinctive, like reaching for grounding when the world tilted.
He froze for half a heartbeat — then let out a slow breath and let her lean just enough to steady herself.
"Stay with me," he murmured.
"I'm right here."
The bond flickered again — a warm, steady pulse, his spark trying to stabilize hers.
She felt it.
And responded.
Slowly, her spark's frantic pull dimmed.
She lifted her head. "Kairo… I think we can stop the surge."
"How?"
"A controlled spark sync. Not a full bond—just… a brief alignment. Enough to override the chamber's frequency."
He hesitated. "It's risky."
"I know."
"And you trust me enough to try it?"
She looked him in the eye.
"Of course I do."
His breath caught softly — just for a moment — but he nodded.
They stood together, palms almost touching, sparks flaring faintly.
"Ready?" she whispered.
"With you?"
His voice softened.
"Always."
Their energy synced — not fully bonded, not dangerously deep — just enough.
The chamber's pulse clashed with theirs, then shuddered, then broke.
The light faded.
Silence.
Lyria exhaled shakily. "We did it."
Kairo didn't smile immediately.
He was still looking at her — not with worry now, but something quieter, warmer.
"You're getting stronger," he said softly.
"And more terrifying by the day."
She laughed weakly. "That sounds like a compliment."
"It is."
His eyes softened. "And a warning. I need to train even harder to keep up with you."
A warmth blossomed in her chest — not spark-created.
Just… her.
For a moment, they simply stood there, sparks dimmed, the world quiet around them.
Then Kairo stepped back first, not abruptly — just enough to let both of them breathe again.
"We should report this," he said gently.
Lyria nodded. "Right."
But as they walked out of the chamber, their steps fell naturally in sync again.
And the bond?
It flickered — soft, warm, curious — but stable.
For now.