Morning light spilled across the training arena in soft amber sheets, catching on the floating platforms and polished metal rails. The air shimmered faintly with residual spark energy from early drills, crackling in tiny pops that reminded Lyria of distant fireworks. She stood at the center of the space, breathing slowly, palms warm with a gentle flicker of her Link Spark.
Everything inside her felt… different.
Not unstable.
Not dangerous.
Just different — like a door she hadn't noticed before had been left slightly open.
Kairo waited a few steps away, arms crossed, expression focused but gentler than usual. His Skyblade spark pulsed at his shoulder, a faint bluish shimmer that responded to his mood. Today, it was calm. Watchful. Ready.
"So," he said finally, "we need to understand exactly what your bond flicker yesterday meant."
Lyria nodded, though her stomach churned with mixed excitement and nerves.
The bond flicker — that brief, brilliant moment where her Link Spark had surged in sync with his — had felt too strong, too vivid to ignore. The light, the harmony, the sensation of being connected to something beyond herself… It had shaken her more than she wanted to admit.
"I'm ready," she said quietly.
Kairo studied her with the kind of steady gaze that made her feel seen rather than being examined. "This isn't about pushing you harder. It's about understanding what your spark is trying to show you."
Lyria exhaled. "Then I guess we start by listening."
Kairo nodded once. "Exactly."
He stepped closer, the faint hum of his Skyblade spark brushing the edge of her energy field. Lyria felt the shift immediately — a low, gentle resonance that tugged at her spark like a soft heartbeat.
She steadied herself. "It's doing it again."
"Good," Kairo murmured. "Let it."
Lyria closed her eyes. Her Link Spark responded instinctively, rising like warm air under sunlight. It didn't surge wildly like before. It didn't lunge at Kairo's spark. Instead, it reached, tentative but curious, glowing faint gold beneath her skin.
Kairo's spark answered with a quiet hum, flowing like a breeze over polished steel.
The two energies drifted closer, meeting in the space between them.
A pulse — not chaotic, not frightening.
More like a signal.
A realization.
Lyria opened her eyes at the same moment Kairo spoke.
"You feel that too?"
"Yes," she whispered.
Their sparks weren't just reacting.
They were aligning themselves.
Not perfectly — but enough to show it wasn't an accident.
Kairo moved slowly to her side. "I think your spark is trying to form a link bridge."
Lyria blinked. "A… what?"
"It's rare," he explained softly. "Very rare. A link bridge is when two sparks share a controlled resonance. It's not merging. It's not fusing. It's… more like a communication channel."
Lyria swallowed. "Like a connection?"
Kairo hesitated, but only for a moment. "Yes. But a controlled one. A chosen one."
Lyria felt her heart thud once, sharp and heavy. "And our sparks… want that?"
"It seems like it." His voice was steady, but she didn't miss the way his hand flexed at his side. "Yesterday's flicker wasn't random. It was an attempt."
Lyria's breath caught. "An attempt to… link?"
"Yes."
A small silence followed — not uncomfortable, but weighted with the weight of realization.
The academy had theories about Link Sparks, of course. Most involved amplification, synchronization, or emotional resonance. But a link bridge… That was something older, something mentioned only in incomplete texts.
"Kairo," she said slowly, "if our sparks can do this… what does it mean?"
He took a moment before answering.
"It means that together, we might be able to reach levels of control, clarity, and power that neither of us could reach alone."
Her chest tightened — not in fear, but in awe.
"Is that even allowed?" she asked weakly.
Kairo's mouth twitched into a dry half-smile. "There's no rule for this. It's too rare to have rules."
"Oh. Great." Lyria's laugh was nervous but real. "So we're… the test case?"
"Pretty much."
Lyria took another steadying breath. "Okay. So how do we test it?"
Kairo gestured for her to step into a marked circle on the platform. "We're going to try a controlled spark bridge. Very small. Nothing intense."
Lyria nodded and stepped forward. The platform hummed beneath her feet, recognizing her spark signature. Kairo moved to stand across from her, close enough that she could see the faint silver threads in his eyes when the light hit them.
"Focus on breathing," he said softly. "Let the spark rise naturally. Don't force anything."
Lyria nodded again, closing her eyes.
She reached inward.
Her spark lifted instantly — eager, like it had been waiting for this.
Kairo's spark responded with a low, cool hum.
A gentle tension built between them, a magnetic pull that was neither physical nor overwhelming. Lyria felt it in her chest, in her pulse, in the soft warmth blooming under her palms.
There was a moment — brief, delicate — where the two energies touched.
Like fingertips brushing.
Like a door cracking open.
Lyria's breath caught. "Kairo…"
"I know," he said quietly. "Steady. Let it settle."
The bridge formed.
Light — soft gold from Lyria and pale blue from Kairo — interlaced in a thread between them, not touching their bodies, hovering like a luminous thread of possibility.
The platform hummed louder.
Lyria felt suddenly light, like she could move faster, sense more clearly, think more sharply without effort.
"Kairo," she whispered, "I can feel your spark."
"Good." His voice was quiet, focused. "Tell me what you perceive."
"It's… steady. Controlled. Cooler than mine but sharp. Strong, but not suffocating."
"And do you feel threatened by it?"
"No," she said without hesitation. "It feels grounded. Safe."
The thread brightened.
"Now," Kairo said, "I'm going to let a little more Skyblade energy rise. Very little. You tell me when it feels too much."
Lyria nodded.
Kairo lifted his hand slightly. A thin arc of pale blue energy flowed through the bridge toward her spark.
Lyria inhaled sharply — not in pain, but in astonishment.
She could feel his energy.
Not just its form — its shape, its movement, like following the direction of a wind she could suddenly see.
Her Link Spark responded, rising to meet it, adjusting, matching, learning.
"Kairo," she whispered, shocked, "my spark is mirroring yours."
"Exactly," he murmured. "This is what Link Sparks do when they're working as they're meant to. This is the bridge."
Lyria felt suddenly weightless — not physically, but deeper, like something heavy she had carried for years had lifted without warning.
"This is…" She swallowed. "I didn't know it could feel like this."
"I did," Kairo admitted. "I just didn't think it would happen this fast."
She opened her eyes.
Kairo stood steady on the platform, jaw slightly tense, eyes clear, focused entirely on her. The blue glow of the Skyblade spark flickered up his arm and along the thread connecting them.
"You're doing well," he said quietly.
The simple words warmed her more than the spark.
Lyria took a small step back, testing the link's stability.
The bridge held.
"Kairo," she said slowly, "I think my spark is learning from yours. Not copying — adapting."
Kairo nodded. "That's the potential. A link bridge allows shared perception, shared clarity. Your spark can refine itself faster. And mine can stabilize further."
"So this… benefits us both?"
"Yes," he said simply. "Greatly."
Lyria stared at the thread of light, awe washing over her.
"Kairo… this could change everything."
"I know."
Another silence fell — deeper now, thoughtful.
Lyria swallowed. "But it still feels like we're only at the beginning."
"We are," Kairo agreed. "This is only a fraction of the bond's potential. If we develop this properly, we'll be able to synchronize strategies, respond in battle without speaking, stabilize each other's surges, and even—"
He cut himself off.
Lyria tilted her head. "And even what?"
Kairo hesitated, eyes flicking to the glowing bridge. "And even prevent forced spark suppression."
Her breath caught. "You mean—"
"Yes." His voice lowered. "Nullers."
Lyria's pulse quickened.
A Nuller's suppressive field could dampen or strip spark abilities. If the link bridge could protect against that…
"Kairo," she whispered, "that would change everything."
"It could," he agreed. "Which is why we need to understand this bond fully before anyone else tries to weaponize it."
Lyria went still.
"You think the Academy would—?"
He didn't answer. He didn't need to.
She understood.
"Kairo…" Her voice was softer. "What do you think we should do?"
He drew a slow breath. "We train quietly. We learn everything we can. And we don't let anyone push you into anything unsafe."
Her chest tightened — a mix of gratitude and determination.
The thread of light pulsed gently.
"Alright," she whispered. "Then I'm with you."
The glow intensified briefly, like the sparks themselves acknowledged the decision.
Then, slowly, Kairo lifted his hand, signaling the end of the trial.
"Let the spark ease down," he murmured. "Gently. Don't cut it abruptly."
Lyria nodded, focusing on her breathing. The Link Spark receded with surprising obedience, drawing back like a tide returning to sea. The bridge thinned, softened, and finally dissolved into shimmering air.
When it ended, the platform fell quiet again.
Lyria swayed slightly — not out of weakness, but from the overwhelming sensation of discovery.
Kairo steadied her with a hand lightly on her arm. "Easy."
Lyria blinked up at him, surprised but grateful. "That was… a lot."
"Yes," he said. "But you handled it better than expected."
She managed a small smile. "You did too."
Kairo's mouth twitched. "I try."
Lyria laughed softly — a real, warm sound that echoed across the empty arena.
For a moment, they stood there, the remnants of the spark bridge fading between them, an unspoken understanding settling like dust in golden sunlight.
This partnership wasn't just assigned.
It was real.
And it was only the beginning.