The morning began normal.
It did not end that way.
We were on the east terrace, working on what Halin now called "precision drills," the kind meant to refine the braid until even small tremors could be handled without flare. The sun was warm. Birds perched on the warded posts. Lira's hair caught the light in soft strands. Seris argued about runes and rolled her eyes when Halin corrected her form.
For a single breath, the world felt ordinary.
Then the lattice screamed.
It wasn't sound. It was vibration — a harsh reverberation in the bones, a tightening of air, like the academy itself inhaled sharply through clenched teeth.
My mark flared.
Lira's fingers spasmed.
Seris's staff snapped upright.
Halin didn't shout. She didn't need to.
"Move."
We did — instinctively, almost too late — as the ward lines along the perimeter flickered from steady gold to jagged white.
A breach.
A real one this time.
Not a drill.
Not a simulation.
Not a test.
The thing had returned.
The first explosion wasn't sound. It was pressure — a blast of resonance that buckled the reinforced hedges and cracked stone. Students screamed from within the courtyard. Wardens rushed to their stations. The sky dimmed, not from clouds, but from something blocking light.
Seris cursed. "It's bigger."
"No," Lira said, breath trembling. "It's closer."
The ward lattice lit up like a shattered star-map, veins of light scrambling to adjust.
And then we saw it.
A tendril — enormous, shimmering with fractured starlight — struck the outer ward, bending it inward like molten glass. The ward resisted, but not enough. The force rippled through the entire network, and the ground under our feet shook.
Lira gasped.
Seris hissed.
I felt my heart slam against my ribs.
Halin stepped forward with her staff raised. "Do NOT engage unless I give the command."
"But—" Seris started.
"Unless I COMMAND," Halin repeated sharply.
She was right. A reckless misstep could collapse the ward entirely.
Except the thing wasn't waiting.
A second tendril struck.
This one went through.
The ward cracked — not broken entirely, but fractured. A shard of raw resonance slipped past and sliced across the terrace like a blade of wind.
Seris moved first.
Or tried to.
The shard hit her before she could react.
It wasn't lethal — but it was violent. The blow lifted her off her feet, slamming her into the terrace railing with a force that knocked the breath out of her lungs. Her back arched against the stone; she cried out sharply, the sound cut off by impact.
"SERIS!" I was already running toward her.
Lira's breath collapsed into a whisper of terror. "No—no—no—"
Seris slid to the floor, clutching her side, teeth bloodied from biting her lip. When she opened her eyes, they were wide — not with fear for herself, but with something fiercer.
"I'm fine," she gasped. "It just—caught me. I'm fine. Arin—don't—"
She winced. She was not fine.
The bond thrashed — her pain hit us like static across the chest. Lira flinched hard, her breath breaking in shallow bursts.
Halin's voice cut through the panic:
"Triad! To position!"
There was no hesitation.
I grabbed Seris, pulling her upright until her weight was partially on me, partially on the railing. She swore at the pressure but didn't push me off.
Lira took position on my right, trembling but focused, bandages of light forming along her hands.
Halin raised her staff, sigils spinning.
"Wait," she said. "Not yet."
The tendril struck the ward again. And again. And again. The entire field flashed like someone shaking a torch behind paper.
Halin was calculating.
Waiting for a moment when engaging wouldn't worsen the breach.
But the next push was worse — a resonant boom that shattered a dozen secondary wards and blew a bolt of energy straight through the terrace.
This time, it aimed at Lira.
"NO!" I shouted.
I moved — too slow.
Seris moved — too hurt.
The shard reached Lira — but before it struck, she threw up both hands, palms open, magic swirling uncontrolled.
The blast hit her full force.
Her boots skidded against the ground, scraping sparks. Her arms shook violently. She cried out, voice cracking with strain. A shockwave burst around her — not clean, not controlled, but raw and desperate.
"LIRA!" I lunged toward her.
She dropped to one knee, chest heaving.
But she didn't fall.
Her eyes trembled but shone with fierce determination.
"I can—hold it," she whispered.
"You don't need to—" I began.
"Yes," she said through clenched teeth. "I do."
The thing beyond the ward shifted — sensing her resistance, testing it. Another tendril formed, coiling with hungry precision.
Halin's eyes widened.
"It's targeting her," she said.
"It knows her signature," I whispered.
Lira's breath hitched — fear mixing with something sharper:
Not again.
Not another collapse.
Not another moment of helplessness.
But she was shaking badly — her arms buckled under the pressure.
I knelt beside her, one hand gripping her wrist, channeling energy into her coil.
"Lira. Look at me."
Her eyes flicked to mine, pupils wide with strain.
"You're not holding it alone," I said.
Seris limped to her other side, pressing her staff into the ground, bracing herself. "We're here," she said through tight breath. "So stop trying to be a martyr."
Lira's lips trembled — a tiny, broken laugh escaping her throat. "I'm—not—"
"You are," Seris said.
"And we love you for it," I whispered.
Her breath caught.
The bond pulsed — hard.
A flare ignited around us.
Raw, bright, spinning.
Triad resonance.
Not perfect. Not polished.
But alive.
"NOW!" Halin shouted.
Her staff struck stone.
The world shifted.
A ring of sigils sprang up around us — ancient, layered, humming. They recognized our bond instantly, aligning themselves like metal shards pulled toward a magnet.
The three of us moved instinctively.
We braided.
Seris's fire.
Lira's clarity.
My anchor.
The tendril struck.
But this time, it slammed into a woven shield — not a wall or a ward, but a living resonance barrier we built in the space of a heartbeat.
It shattered against us.
Not the other way around.
The ground shook. The shockwave scattered dust and light across the terrace.
And then something unbelievable happened.
The thing hesitated.
Not like an animal.
Not like a mindless force.
It froze.
Paused.
As if listening.
And then — faint, glacial, impossible — a voice slid through the breach.
Not through our ears.
Through resonance.
> "…found you."
Lira inhaled sharply.
Seris stiffened, grip tightening on her staff.
My blood froze.
The voice came again — deeper, clearer, dreadful in its calmness.
"Triad… awakened."
The lattice around us crackled violently, warding energies flaring in panic.
Halin stepped forward, face pale.
"That," she said under her breath, "was not an echo."
"No," Seris whispered. "It spoke."
But it wasn't done.
This time, the resonance tunneled through the bond itself.
Direct.
Personal.
Targeted.
"…Arin Vale…"
My vision blurred.
The breath left my lungs.
The world went silent.
Lira and Seris grabbed me instinctively — one at each side — as the bond convulsed under the direct contact.
"Arin—!" Lira's voice broke.
"Stay with us," Seris snarled.
The thing's voice coiled around my consciousness, cold and intent.
> "…you are incomplete…"
"…missing piece…"
"…I remember you…"
My heart stopped.
Lira clutched my sleeve, terror ripping through her.
Seris pressed her head to my shoulder, grounding me.
Halin shouted something distant and urgent.
But I heard nothing except the final whisper:
> "…and I am coming."
The breach sealed suddenly — violently — sending a shockwave across the ward lattice.
The thing withdrew.
Silence fell.
I collapsed forward, gasping, sweat cold on my skin.
Lira grabbed me before I hit the ground. "Arin—Arin—look at me—look at me—"
Seris cupped my face, voice trembling. "Center—stay with us—"
I blinked, dazed.
The world steadied.
But nothing felt steady inside me.
Not after hearing that voice.
Not after the entity spoke my name — as if it already knew me.
As if it had been waiting.
Lira's forehead pressed lightly to mine. "You're safe. You're with us."
Seris's palm against my back. "Breathe. I've got you. We've got you."
I swallowed hard.
"I… I heard it."
"We know," Lira whispered.
"We heard you hearing it," Seris said.
Halin approached slowly.
Her voice was grim.
"That wasn't just a breach," she said.
"That was contact."