Morning training came too soon.
The sunlight had barely touched the academy roofs when Halin summoned us, but she didn't speak immediately. She watched us walk into the hall—watched the way Seris walked close to my left shoulder, the way Lira hovered near my right hand—and something unreadable flickered in her gaze.
"You will not enter the fracture today," she said.
Seris blinked. "No offense, but—thank the stars."
Halin lifted a hand. "Not because it is safe. But because it is close."
Lira frowned. "Close how?"
"The entity approached through the subconscious," Halin said. "It bypassed physical resistance. Which means physical training is temporarily pointless."
Seris crossed her arms. "So what now? Meditation? Staring at the wall until we achieve enlightenment?"
Halin ignored the sarcasm. "Today, we strengthen the bond. Not the fracture."
That startled me. "The bond is already strong."
"Yes," Halin said, stepping forward, "strong enough that the fracture no longer sees you as isolated."
Lira inhaled sharply. "It recognizes us."
"It does," Halin said softly, almost reluctantly. "Which means it may begin to test us."
Seris stiffened. "Us?"
"You, specifically," Halin corrected. "The triad configuration has awakened pathways not used in centuries."
Lira looked at me, voice barely above a whisper. "…Pathways tied to the original bond?"
"Yes," Halin said simply. "And the imprint remembers some of those paths."
The room felt suddenly colder.
"Then we need to know what they were," I said quietly.
"No," Halin said sharply. "You need to know who you are first."
The words hit harder than I expected.
Before I could answer, Halin motioned toward the resonance nodes arranged in a triangle around the training circle.
"Sit," she said. "All three of you."
We obeyed.
Halin placed her palm on the center rune and murmured a sequence. The floor glowed—a soft pulse, not harsh, not demanding. More like a heartbeat.
"You will focus on the bond," she said. "Not powering it. Listening to it."
Seris blinked. "Listening?"
"To each other," Halin clarified. "To what your resonance feels like, without the fracture's interference."
Lira placed her hand against mine softly. Seris did the same.
The bond hummed instantly—warm, familiar.
But something was different.
It wasn't reacting to fear. Not reacting to danger. It was reacting to presence alone.
Lira's warmth pulsed gently along one edge, steady and soft. Seris's fire flickered stronger on the other—protective but not tense.
And between them…
me.
Not pulled.
Not threatened.
Just… held.
I felt the fracture somewhere deep inside, quiet and distant. As if it were watching from behind glass.
Halin's voice came through the haze. "This is resonance without invasion. Without trauma. Without imprint."
Seris exhaled slowly. "Feels… weird."
Lira shook her head. "Feels peaceful."
I didn't know what it felt like.
No entity watching.
No fracture reacting.
No echoes whispering from another lifetime.
Just three heartbeats, synchronized by choice rather than survival.
I opened my eyes.
Lira's gaze was soft.
Seris's steady.
Halin stood silently across from us, watching the bond like a scholar watching history rewrite itself.
"You asked what happens if the entity tries to reshape Arin," she said quietly.
We all looked up.
"Now that the bond is awakening, the answer is simple."
Lira leaned forward slightly. "What answer?"
Halin's expression softened—just barely. "Then the bond reshapes the entity."
My breath hitched.
Seris stared. "…Say that again?"
Halin stepped closer, lowering her voice as if the walls themselves might listen.
"It is not only watching you," she said. "It is being changed by you."
Silence fell sharp as glass.
Lira's eyes widened, pulse visible in her throat. "So every time we connect—"
"We are rewriting what it is," Halin finished. "Not intentionally. But inevitably."
Seris looked stunned. "So you're telling me our being emotional disasters together is actually a magical strategy?"
Halin didn't smile, but something like faint amusement flickered behind her eyes. "If you choose to rephrase it like that, yes."
Lira's hand tightened around mine. Her voice was quiet, almost reverent. "So it's not just trying to change him. We're changing it."
Halin nodded once. "That is why the triad bond exists."
I swallowed hard. "And what happens if it remembers everything?"
"That depends," Halin said, her voice nearly inaudible now. "On whether it remembers through fear…or through your bond."
A chill slid down my spine—but not entirely from fear.
Seris leaned closer, voice low. "Then we stay close. Always."
Lira's fingers intertwined with mine. "Always."
And in that moment, with their hands in mine and the bond humming quietly between us, the fracture inside me pulsed once—
Not in pain.
In recognition.
After Halin dismissed us, none of us moved right away. The training hall was quiet in a way that wasn't silence—it felt like the resonance itself was listening, waiting to see what we would do next.
Seris was the first to exhale. "Okay," she muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "So now our feelings are accidentally rewriting ancient psychic entities. No pressure."
Lira shot her a look. "This isn't a joke."
Seris glanced right back. "You think I don't know that?"
"Then act like it," Lira said softly—but the tremble in her voice wasn't anger. It was fear.
Of losing me.
Of losing us.
Of being powerless while something reached through me.
I didn't let go of her hand.
"I think what she's trying to say," I murmured gently, "is that we're allowed to be scared. We just don't have to be scared alone."
Seris stared at the floor a moment before nodding.
"Yeah," she said, voice low. "That part I understand."
Lira finally relaxed her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I just—every time it gets closer, I keep thinking I might lose you."
"You won't," I said immediately.
She searched my face, as if looking for certainty I didn't fully have. But she found something anyway.
She moved closer and rested her forehead briefly against mine. Not romantic—just a quiet, grounding contact that let her feel the bond pulse between us.
Seris looked away for a moment—not jealous, not uncomfortable. Just quietly moved by something she didn't know how to admit.
I offered my hand to her.
Slowly—hesitantly—she took it.
The bond pulsed warmer, like a soft light spreading through all three of us.
"We should go," Lira said finally, voice steadier. "The wards will start shifting soon, and we should rest while we can."
"Rest," Seris snorted. "That's a myth."
But she didn't resist when I led us toward the door.
---
The academy corridors felt different on the walk back. Not darker—just… heavier. Like the walls themselves carried memories waiting to be remembered.
I slowed near one of the old resonance murals—a faded painting of the first Triad awakening centuries ago, three figures standing against a roaring storm of magic.
Lira stopped beside me. "I used to think that was just symbolic."
Seris folded her arms. "Still does. This whole prophecy stuff makes my teeth hurt."
I stared at the painted triad, wondering how much was history and how much was warning.
"What if we really are changing it?" I whispered. "What if everything we do reshapes whatever that thing used to be?"
"Then good," Seris said simply. "Let it learn something better."
Lira's eyes softened. "Or let it feel something better."
That hit harder than I expected.
We walked again, slower this time, the bond humming gently under my skin.
---
When we reached their room, Seris stepped aside for us to enter, but she didn't follow immediately. I paused in the doorway, looking back.
Something in her expression made my breath catch—a softness I rarely saw uncloaked.
Finally, she exhaled, stepped forward, and closed the door behind us.
Lira reached out for me again—just a brush of fingers—but it felt like more. Connection. Choice. Promise.
Seris sat beside us on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on her knees, shoulders tense in a way that said the dream was still under her skin.
"You okay?" I asked quietly.
"No," she said honestly. "But I'm here."
I reached across both of them, fingers brushing Lira's, then Seris's. They leaned toward me without hesitation, warmth pressing from both sides.
The bond steadied.
Curled around us.
Held.
"You're not alone anymore," Lira whispered.
Seris nodded, voice low. "None of us are."
Somewhere deep beneath my ribs, the fracture pulsed—soft, quiet, almost peaceful.
I didn't know if that pulse belonged to me, or to the echo, or to something trying to become new.
But for the first time, the uncertainty didn't feel like a threat.
It felt like a beginning.