The wind carried the scent of pine and distant rain as Jack stood on the deck of the rivercraft Verix had conjured, watching the forested banks slide past in a blur of green and gold.
The soft hum of the vessel's etheric drive thrummed beneath his feet, powered by the trio's combined cultivation matrices—an experimental propulsion system Verix had devised, its harmony fine-tuned by Jack's logic and Lyra's resilience. But it wasn't the innovation that occupied his mind. It was the tension—quiet, intangible, and growing.
Their flight from the trading post had left them shaken but intact. The confrontation with the Imperial pursuers had not come to violence, but it had revealed more than Jack was comfortable with.
He was being hunted. Not just Tarkhan—the persona he wore—but the anomaly he represented: a transmigrated soul, harmonically bonded to a relic of forbidden design.
Yet what occupied his thoughts even more than the growing danger was the strange sense of connection beginning to coil between him and his companions.
Lyra, ever vigilant and poised like a blade half-drawn, had taken to watching Jack more often—subtly, though not subtly enough to escape his notice.
There was a depth to her glances now, as if measuring not just his abilities but something deeper, more fragile.
Verix, on the other hand, remained her brilliant, composed self—though Jack had begun to notice her mask slipping. The illusion of masculinity she'd adopted back in the trading post had been cast aside once they'd departed, and her true self had emerged.
Elven, poised, her voice like frost laced with fire, Verix was no mere scholar. There was something magnetic about her—a brilliance that cloaked a loneliness Jack recognized all too well.
And then there were the others. Three girls. Distant threads of fate yet to be woven into the tapestry. Jack could feel them. Not through the matrix, not through memory, but as if the very world whispered their names, urging him forward.
...
...
Night fell gently, and the rivercraft anchored in a secluded cove. Trees formed a natural canopy overhead, their branches brushing stars that shimmered like the remnants of forgotten constellations. A campfire crackled quietly, casting long shadows.
Jack sat with his back against a boulder, staring into the fire. Lyra stood nearby, sharpening her blade—a rhythmic sound that seemed to echo with something more than steel.
"Trouble sleeping?" she asked without turning.
Jack shook his head. "Just thinking."
She glanced over her shoulder, then sheathed her blade. "About the pendant. The matrix. Or something else?"
He hesitated. "All of it."
She stepped closer, her boots silent on the soft forest floor. When she stopped, she was only a pace away.
"You've changed," she said.
"I had no choice."
"That's not what I meant."
Their eyes met. Jack saw in hers not suspicion but something more dangerous—curiosity tinged with longing.
She sat beside him, close enough that their shoulders brushed. "Tarkhan was always kind, but… naive. You carry something else. A burden. A purpose."
Jack exhaled slowly. "And that concerns you?"
"It draws me," she admitted.
Silence stretched between them, soft and heavy. Then, Lyra's fingers brushed his. Deliberately. No pretense.
Jack didn't pull away.
But before the moment could deepen, a melodic voice interrupted.
"Should I return later?"
Verix stood near the edge of the firelight, arms crossed, her violet eyes gleaming. She wore no disguise now—her elven features striking against the dark of night. Her tone was calm, but Jack caught the flicker of something in her gaze.
Lyra stood, composed. "We were only talking."
"Of course," Verix replied coolly.
Jack stood as well, brushing off his coat. "Verix, is something wrong?"
She hesitated. "I've finished calibrating the drive. But… I need your help testing a new alignment. It requires direct matrix resonance."
Jack caught the undertone—urgency, but not technical. Emotional.
"I'll come," he said.
He followed her to the rear of the rivercraft, where crystal lattices glowed faintly. Verix motioned for him to kneel opposite her. They placed their hands on the matrix core, their fingers brushing briefly.
"I interrupted something," Verix said quietly.
Jack didn't answer.
She closed her eyes, focusing on the resonance, but her words continued. "Lyra is strong. But she doesn't understand your mind. She sees your strength, not your fragility."
"You think you do?"
"I know I do." She opened her eyes and met his.
"You're like me, Jack. Living on borrowed time. Wearing borrowed skin. Fighting a world that wants to erase us. That kind of loneliness…"
She paused. "I know what it costs."
He exhaled, the resonance between them growing warmer. He could feel the matrix responding not just to cultivation, but to emotion—intention.
Verix leaned closer. "There's a reason the matrix responds to harmony. Because discord—no matter how powerful—fractures eventually. But we… we can build something that lasts."
Her lips brushed his.
Jack didn't resist.
Then the matrix pulsed sharply, an alarm rather than resonance. Both of them recoiled as light burst from the core.
"What was that?" he asked.
Verix's expression darkened. "Another compatible soul. Nearby."
...
...
Dawn came with a rush of mist and rising tension. The rivercraft resumed its course, but the team was silent—each preoccupied.
By noon, the forest gave way to rising hills. On one such slope stood a crumbling observatory, its dome cracked but still reflecting sunlight.
"That's not on any map," Lyra murmured.
"It wasn't meant to be," Verix replied. "The resonance came from there."
Jack led the way up the hill, the pendant pulsing steadily. As they neared the observatory, a figure emerged from within—a girl no older than twenty, her pale green hair falling in waves past her shoulders, her eyes like starlight caught in glass.
She wore simple robes, cinched at the waist with braided silver thread. Around her neck hung a crystal identical to Jack's.
"I was wondering when you'd arrive," she said.
Jack froze. "You know who I am?"
"I've dreamed of you for weeks," she replied. "Your energy. Your matrix. It calls to mine."
"Who are you?" Verix asked.
"My name is Shaya. I am a Moon-Seer."
Jack felt the matrix pulse again, brighter than before.
"Moon-Seers disappeared generations ago," Lyra said quietly.
"We hid," Shaya said. "Because the Conclave feared what we might become. But the moons chose me. And now they've chosen you."
She stepped closer, extending her hand. "Let me show you what the Conclave has forgotten."
As Jack touched her fingers, the matrix flared—not violently, but with astonishing clarity.
For a moment, the world fell away.
He saw stars shifting, moons eclipsing one another, lines of energy threading through constellations. And in the center, three lights—Lyra, Verix, Shaya—each glowing in tune with his own.
When the vision faded, he staggered.
Shaya caught him gently. "We are fated, Jack Morrison. You may have arrived from another world… but this one is now yours to shape."
That night, as the rivercraft floated once more, the dynamic between them had shifted.
Shaya joined their circle, her presence quiet but unwavering. She and Verix spoke of stars and frequencies. She and Lyra exchanged guarded nods—warriors assessing one another.
Jack sat slightly apart, watching the fire, feeling the pull of connection deepen.
Not obligation.
Not desire.
But something else.
Harmony.
And though the road ahead remained uncertain, one truth had become clear:
He was no longer alone.
Not in mind.
Not in heart.
And certainly not in fate.