Aster always hated this room.
The core examination room had no windows, only white crystal walls that reflected light so that every shadow seemed like a mistake that needed to be erased.
Three Magisters stood around him, their robes shimmering softly under the light of the sacred emblem. In the center of the room, a magic circle spun slowly, reflecting Aster's shadow as he sat in a metal chair—without chains, but clearly not freedom.
"Subject Aster Vale," the eldest Magister's voice echoed, calm and heavy, "do you acknowledge that your resonance with subject Erian Faye cannot be erased despite isolation?"
Aster stared straight ahead. "Resonance isn't something that can be severed by will," he replied flatly. "It grows from alignment. You know that."
The female Magister on the right side snorted softly. "Alignment born from a violation of the law."
"From empathy," Aster corrected. "Something you should understand, if you still remember the original purpose of this Academy."
The three Magisters exchanged a brief glance. In an instant, the magic in the room shifted—the warmth of the light turned into a gentle pressure that pressed in from all directions. As if the air itself decided to judge whether Aster's words were true.
But before Aster could take a breath, a subtle vibration flowed through his body.
A pulse—not from the room's magic, but from something far beyond these walls.
Aster's chest tightened. He recognized the rhythm instantly.
Erian.
Impossible. The resonance should have stopped after that last night. He himself had closed the energy pathways with a personal seal. But now, the pulse reappeared—unstable, but real.
"Subject Vale," the old Magister called sharply. "Focus on the circle."
Aster tried to focus his mind, but flashes of faint sounds slipped into his mind, gentle but penetrating all defenses.
—Aster, can you hear me?
He nearly bit his own lip. The echo of the voice was not an illusion. Erian had truly broken through the barrier again.
The Magister on the right side noted something on her crystal tablet. "Emotional beat increasing. There is an extraordinary reaction to unseen stimuli. Continue measurements."
Aster looked down, holding a long breath. "Stop it."
"This isn't finished."
"Stop it!"
His tone cracked slightly, enough to make the symbols on the floor tremble faintly. The old Magister frowned, while the other two strengthened the magic circle.
But even the pressure of the magic couldn't completely contain the energy radiating from within Aster.
The layer of light around him pulsed, its color shifting from white to silvery blue—the signature color of their resonance.
In an instant, a faint image appeared in the air. A young figure with messy black hair and eyes that shone golden.
Erian.
The apparition only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to make the room fall completely silent.
The three Magisters froze, while Aster stared at the illusion with an expression that was hard to describe—somewhere between relief and anger at the same time.
"He can't get in here," the female Magister murmured softly. "This is a closed room full of runes."
"But his energy is penetrating," the eldest Magister replied quietly. "Not because of power, but because of... attachment."
Aster closed his eyes, trying to calm the surging waves of energy in his chest. "He didn't mean to trespass. Our resonance is reflective. I reacted first."
But his words weren't entirely true.
He could clearly feel that Erian was anxious, perhaps lost in a vortex of fear and anger that he shouldn't be feeling. And what was worse—those emotions were slowly seeping into himself.
One more long breath, and he would almost lose control.
"Cancel the test," he hissed softly. "Before this room's system fails."
The old Magister shook his head. "We need to know the limits, Vale."
But before he could continue, the magic circle on the floor cracked—not broken by brute force, but because of the resonance that sought each other from two hearts that didn't want to be separated.
A flash of light filled the room.
Aster fell to his knees, clutching his chest. In that flash, he saw a glimpse of Erian's face—not real, but so close as if their hands were almost touching.
Aster... don't resist.
If I don't resist, you'll be burned by this resonance, Aster thought hard.
If I have to burn, let it be with you.
The sentence silenced him. In every inner battle, Aster always knew to choose logic. But this time logic collapsed instantly.
Because what he felt was not just energy resonance—it was soul resonance.
And among the pulsing lights, he realized one thing that was both frightening and beautiful:
They were no longer two individuals bound by fate, but two parts of the same existence, complementing each other amidst destruction.
The flash finally subsided. Aster was still kneeling on the floor, his breath ragged, sweat dripping from his temples. The magic circle was extinguished.
One of the Magisters approached cautiously. "You shouldn't be able to maintain consciousness after the barrier broke."
Aster looked up, staring at them with eyes that now reflected a dim silver light. "You don't understand that what we've built isn't a power to be controlled. It's a form of... understanding."
The female Magister stared at him for a long time, before finally closing her note tablet. "Examination session postponed. Report to the Great Council."
They left one by one, leaving Aster alone in the middle of the white room.
As soon as the door closed, Aster looked down, pressed his fingers to the floor, and whispered very softly.
"Erian... you idiot."
But behind those words, there was something different.
Not anger.
But a strange, warm calm, as if he had just come home to a place he had never really left.
He touched his chest, feeling the faint pulse that still lingered there.
One beat—two beats—and in the spaces between his breaths, he knew, even separated by thousands of layers of magic, Erian heard him.
They were both still there.
Still finding each other, between the walls of light and the lies of this world.
Erian woke up with a gasp, his body shivering as if he had just been dragged from the depths of freezing water.
The air in the ritual room was so thick with the scent of metal and stardust ashes. The silver candles around him had been extinguished, leaving a circle of runes that smoked faintly—a sign that the energy in the ritual had not only failed, but had broken through the barrier.
He tried to get up, but a pain in his chest pierced like a knife.
Then came a strange wave: warm, gentle, touching his mind like a stream of water in the middle of a storm.
Aster.
There was no doubt.
He could feel the pulse of his soul. Gentle yet firm.
It felt like someone was holding back tears and anger at the same time.
"No... this isn't possible," he whispered softly.
He stared at his trembling palm. A faint silver light danced beneath his skin, following the same pattern as the scars from that night's ritual.
Around him, the restraining spells began to crack one by one, like glass that could no longer withstand the pressure of water. He could hear hissing sounds from the guards outside the room—they probably had already noticed the energy surge.
But what really made Erian freeze wasn't that.
In his mind, he faintly heard a sound.
Not a call, not a whisper... but a breath.
Aster's breath.
He knew the rhythm. Every beat, every exhale.
For years, only two things had always made Erian's world feel real: Aster's voice, and the light in his eyes.
Now both were back—through a resonance that shouldn't exist.
"Why... are you trying to hold me back again?" he murmured softly, whether to himself or to him.
But there was no verbal answer.
Only a gentle pulse that traced his nerves, flowing from his chest to his fingertips.
As if Aster was right in front of him, asking him to calm down.
But that calmness was a torture in itself.
Every time Aster's energy touched his mind, Erian felt a reflection of his feelings—worry, guilt, and something deeper that he couldn't name.
Love?
He didn't dare call it that.
The word was too fragile for something that could shake their world.
The floor beneath him trembled. The magic walls screamed softly.
"Erian Faye!" Someone's voice was heard from outside the room—the captain of the guard, sounding nervous. "We're detecting energy disturbances from the third level! What are you doing!?"
Erian stared towards the door. A thin smile was painted on his face, a smile that looked more like a wound than relief.
"I'm... just hearing something again that I shouldn't be able to hear."
Suddenly, the silver light under his skin shone brighter. Energy surged uncontrollably.
He was dragged back into the vortex of resonance.
In an instant, the world around him changed. The ritual walls disappeared, replaced by a expanse of soft light that pulsed like a night ocean.
In the middle of it, Aster stood—not entirely real, but so alive. His hair was loose, his eyes staring straight at him.
"I told you to stop," Aster said, his voice low, almost trembling.
"If I stop," Erian replied slowly, "you'll drown alone."
"I can handle it."
"Liar."
Silence.
Aster stared at him for a long time, as if wanting to deny it, but a small flicker in his eyes broke all those lies.
He turned his face away, but Erian stepped closer.
The distance between them seemed to be rewritten by resonance—every step felt like crossing space and time.
"Aster..." his voice was now trembling, "do you... feel it too?"
Aster held his breath. The light around them dimmed, becoming soft, warm like moonlight on water.
"Feel what?"
"That even when we're separated, our hearts still beat in the same rhythm."
One second. Two seconds.
And finally Aster looked at him again—in that gaze was the whole answer that didn't need to be spoken.
Erian almost raised his hand, wanting to touch his face, but the light around them began to crack. The resonance was unstable.
Aster took half a step back. "If you keep forcing contact, the system will drag us both into a collapse."
"Then let that collapse happen," Erian said softly. "At least this time we fall together."
A smile—bitter and sincere—formed on Aster's lips.
"You're always stubborn."
"And you're always trying to save everyone, even when the one who needs saving is yourself."
The resonance grew stronger. The space of light trembled violently.
Erian stared at him, knowing that every second might be the last before everything was cut off again.
"If this is the end," he said slowly, "I want you to know one thing."
Aster looked down. "Don't say it."
"Too late."
Erian came closer, until the distance between them was only an inch.
"Even if the world burns us alive, I will still look for you among the stardust ashes."
And before Aster could react, a great flash broke the space.
The light overflowed like a tidal wave, swallowing them both.
When Erian regained consciousness, he was back in the real world—lying on the floor, gasping for breath, and the smell of blood filled the air. The ritual walls were partially scorched, the candles melted.
But in the midst of it all, he could still hear something.
Another heartbeat, faint but real.
A beat that wasn't his.
He smiled faintly, even though his eyes were heavy.
"Still there... you're still there."
Then darkness swallowed him.