We left Merinth at first light.
The floating lights above the shrine had faded with the stars, but the echo of them stayed with us. Even as we walked away, I could feel their presence at the edge of my awareness, like a half-remembered melody.
The villagers watched us go from doorways and windows. Some waved; others just stared with a kind of quiet hope that felt heavier than any pack.
"Do you think it's really over?" Seris asked once the village had shrunk behind us.
"No," Lira said. "But it's quieter. For now."
"They weren't hostile," I added. "Just… broken. Searching."
"Like us," Seris said lightly.
Lira glanced at her. "We're not broken."
Seris smirked. "No. We're just… under construction."
Despite myself, I laughed.
The road back to the academy felt different than when we'd first taken it. We were walking the same path, but nothing about us was the same anymore.
The bond had changed.
It no longer felt like a thin thread between two people. It was wider now, a kind of shared space I could lean into. If I focused, I could sense not only Lira's steadiness and Seris's bright pulse, but the way they brushed against each other too—sometimes harmonizing, sometimes clashing like two notes still learning how to form a chord.
We didn't speak about it directly. Not yet.
But every so often, our eyes would meet—mine with Lira's, mine with Seris's, theirs with each other—and something unspoken passed through the silence.
We arrived at the academy by mid-afternoon.
The gates opened as we approached, the warding sigils pulsing in faint acknowledgment when my mark brushed their range. As soon as we crossed the threshold, the familiar density of the academy's magical field settled around us like a cloak.
Home.
But not quite as we'd left it.
A messenger in Council gray waited just inside. He bowed stiffly.
"Cadets Arin Vale, Lira Thalen, Seris Kael," he said. "The Council requests your presence in the upper hall. Immediately."
Seris sighed. "No rest, then."
Lira straightened. "We expected this."
I nodded. The bond flickered uneasily.
We followed the messenger through corridors that suddenly felt narrower, as if the walls themselves were listening.
---
The Council hall was all stone and light.
Tall windows let in columns of late-day sun, turning dust motes into drifting sparks. Seven high-backed chairs formed a curve at the far end of the room, each occupied by a robed figure. At their center sat Councilor Dareth—the one whose seal had summoned us.
We stood before them in a line. Lira on my right, Seris on my left.
"Cadets," Dareth said, steepling his fingers. "You have returned sooner than expected."
"The phenomenon was localized," Lira said calmly. "We performed an initial stabilization."
"Mm." His gaze moved from her to me. "Report, Cadet Vale."
I swallowed and stepped forward.
I described the warped field in Merinth. The sour water, the animals' fear, the voices people heard. The lights above the shrine. How they'd reacted to us—drawn to our bond. How we'd almost been pulled in before Lira stopped it. How the lights had gradually withdrawn after we'd camped and grounded the resonance through our connection.
I didn't mention every detail—some things felt too personal—but I didn't lie.
When I finished, a low murmur passed between two councilors on the left.
Dareth's eyes narrowed slightly. "And the bond between you three… changed during this mission?"
"Yes," I said.
"How?" he asked, tone sharp.
"It was only between Lira and me before," I said slowly. "But the field in Merinth… it reacted to Seris too. It tried to integrate with her through us. Instead of breaking, the link expanded. It now includes all three of us."
Seris lifted her hand, showing the faint mark on her wrist. "Souvenir," she said with a crooked smile.
"This is not a joke, Cadet Kael," one of the older councilors snapped.
Her smile dimmed, but she didn't look away.
Dareth leaned back. "Secondary and tertiary resonance links forming spontaneously… This is unprecedented at your level." His gaze slid to Lira. "Cadet Thalen. How do you assess the bond's stability?"
Lira met his eyes without flinching. "Fragile, but functional. We're learning how to balance it. It responds strongly to emotional spikes, but it also allows rapid stabilization of external disturbances."
"Emotional spikes," another councilor repeated with an edge. "You speak as if your feelings are tools."
"In this context, they are," Lira said evenly.
I felt a flicker of pride through the bond.
Dareth was silent for a moment.
Then he said, "You have done well. The reports from Merinth confirm that since your departure, disturbances have lessened. The villagers can draw water again. Their animals have calmed." He paused. "However, the source remains active. You did not neutralize it."
"No," I said. "We… chose not to dismantle something we didn't fully understand yet."
"That choice may have been wise," Dareth said. "Or foolish."
Seris crossed her arms. "With respect, Councilor, sending three under-supervised students to poke at an unknown resonance source wasn't exactly cautious either."
The room tensed.
I felt Lira's alarm spark through the bond. I nudged it gently, silently asking Seris to ease off.
But Dareth only watched her, something like interest in his eyes.
"You are bold, Cadet Kael," he said. "Boldness is either very useful to the academy… or very dangerous. Time will decide which."
Seris didn't flinch. "Time can be slow. I'm impatient."
Lira swallowed a sigh.
Dareth turned his attention back to all three of us. "For now, you will remain under observation. Your schedules will continue as normal, but we will be monitoring your resonance levels during training and rest. If the bond grows unstable, we will intervene."
"What does 'intervene' mean?" I asked.
"It means we will prevent damage," he said. "To you. And to others."
The unspoken even if we have to break it hung in the air.
The bond tightened. I felt both girls react—Lira with a ripple of quiet dread, Seris with sudden hot defiance.
"Council adjourned," Dareth said. "You are dismissed."
We bowed and turned to leave.
As we reached the doors, his voice called after us.
"Arin Vale."
I paused, looking back.
His gaze pinned me in place. "You stand at the center of this link. Whether by design or chance, the pattern circles you. Remember that what you choose in the days ahead will affect not only yourself, but those tied to you."
I felt Lira and Seris both go very still beside me.
"Yes, Councilor," I said quietly.
We left the hall in silence.
---
We made it all the way to the central courtyard before anyone spoke.
"That went better than I expected," Seris said lightly, hands behind her head. "No one threatened to lock us in the wards closet."
Lira shot her a look. "That's your measure of success?"
"It's a start."
We walked to the fountain, where the afternoon light turned the water into shimmering metal. Students passed through the courtyard, laughing, complaining about assignments, completely unaware that three of their classmates had just been told they were now… monitored.
I sat on the fountain's edge. The stone was cool through my trousers; the water's trickle soothed something anxious inside me.
Lira stood across from me, arms folded loosely. "They're afraid of what they don't understand."
"And interested," Seris added, perching on the rim beside me. "We're the most exciting thing that's happened in their research in years. I could practically see the theories writing themselves in their heads."
"That doesn't comfort me," Lira said.
Seris nudged my shoulder with hers. "Does it comfort you?"
"Not exactly," I said.
She shrugged. "Didn't think so. But it means we're important. And that means they won't dispose of us easily."
Lira frowned. "You make it sound like we're… weapons."
"We might be," Seris said honestly. "Or we might be bridges. Or something entirely new. That's the point—we don't know yet."
The bond pulsed again, a little stronger, as if reacting to our shared uncertainty.
"We should train," Lira said. "Together. Not just in officially scheduled drills. If they're going to watch us, we should at least understand ourselves better than they do."
"I agree," I said.
Seris grinned. "Finally, something we're all on the same page about."
Lira gestured toward the far side of the courtyard. "The east practice hall is empty in the evenings. Let's meet there tonight. Just us."
Seris raised a brow. "Planning secret sessions already. I like this new side of you."
"I've always had it," Lira said calmly. "You're just seeing it now."
I felt Seris's delight ripple through the bond. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
---
The east practice hall was quieter than the main training yard—stone pillars along the sides, tall windows near the ceiling, simple focus rings etched into the floor. By the time I arrived, the sky outside had turned orange-purple, and lanterns flickered softly along the walls.
Lira was there, adjusting a circle's perimeter lines with a piece of chalk, making them cleaner, more precise. Seris sat on a nearby crate, swinging her legs idly, tossing a small energy orb between her hands like a toy.
"You're late," she said.
"I'm on time," I replied. "You two are just early."
"Yes," Lira said. "We are."
Seris grinned. "That's what competence looks like."
I raised my hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. What's the plan?"
Lira finished the circle and stepped back. "We test the bond deliberately this time. No glowing shrines, no panicked villagers. Just us. Controlled."
"Controlled-ish," Seris corrected.
Lira ignored that. "Arin, you stand in the center. Seris and I will take opposite points of the circle. We'll start with basic emotional projection—calm first. Then escalate gradually to more intense states and see how the bond handles it."
"Emotional projection," I repeated. "So you're going to… send feelings at me?"
"And through you," she said. "To each other."
Seris hopped off the crate. "Emotional relay experiment. I love it."
"That's concerning," I muttered.
We took our positions.
I stepped into the center of the circle. It hummed faintly as my weight settled on it, the etched sigils reacting to my presence.
Lira stood at one edge, hands at her sides, eyes half-closed.
Seris took the opposite edge, stretching her arms above her head before lowering them.
"Ready?" Lira asked.
"Always," Seris said.
"Mostly," I answered.
"Close enough," Lira said.
The bond settled in my chest like a coiled thread.
"Start with calm," Lira said. "Seris, try to match it."
I felt it before I saw it.
From Lira's side: a slow, cool wave. The feeling of standing in a quiet garden at dusk, the distant sound of water, the sense of knowing you're safe.
From Seris's side came something… different. Not calm exactly, but focused. Like the steadiness before jumping into a river—you know you're about to do something reckless, but in that suspended moment you're completely clear.
The two sensations moved through me and met somewhere just behind my ribs.
For a heartbeat, they clashed.
Then, surprisingly, they blended.
My shoulders relaxed.
Seris huffed a laugh. "That feels weird. In a good way."
"It's working," Lira murmured.
"Let's push it," Seris said. "Try something stronger."
"Not too fast," Lira warned.
Naturally, Seris ignored that.
The next wave she sent was bright and sharp—excitement, the thrill of challenge, the rush you get when you're about to do something you probably shouldn't.
Lira responded with something deeper—protectiveness, worry, the stubborn resolve to stand your ground even when you're scared.
They collided inside me.
The bond flared hot.
I staggered.
"Arin?" Lira's voice cut through the noise.
"I'm fine," I managed, though my pulse raced. "Just—give me a second."
I forced myself to breathe. In. Out. I pictured the link between us as a set of channels, not a storm—paths that energy could flow through, not crash into.
Gradually, the mix of excitement and protectiveness settled into something new: a fierce, almost overwhelming sense of belonging.
To both.
With both.
We weren't identical, we weren't in perfect harmony—but we weren't tearing each other apart either.
"Okay," I said softly. "I think I've got it."
Seris whistled. "Did you feel that?" she asked Lira.
"Yes," Lira said quietly. "And him in the middle of it."
"Not a bad place to be," Seris chuckled.
"Stop making it weird," I muttered.
"Oh no," she said. "I haven't even started."
I felt Lira's amusement flicker beneath her composed surface.
"We should stop here for tonight," she said. "Before we push too far."
Seris sighed. "You're no fun."
"You say that," Lira replied, "but you're still here."
Seris smiled slowly. "Good point."
I stepped out of the circle, legs a little unsteady. Lira caught my arm to steady me; a second later, Seris's hand landed on my other shoulder.
For a brief moment, all three of us were touching.
The bond pulsed once—strong, clear, and almost… content.
> [Triad sync: achieved]
Stability: improving]
I exhaled. "Okay. That felt… good, actually."
"See?" Seris said. "Fun."
"Useful," Lira corrected. Then, after a pause, "And… not unpleasant."
The indirectness of that made Seris grin.
We cleaned the chalk from the floor and gathered our things. The lanterns in the hall had dimmed; it was nearing lights-out.
Outside, the night was cool and quiet. Stars shimmered overhead.
We walked together through the courtyard until we reached the point where the paths split—one toward Lira's wing, one toward Seris's, one toward mine.
None of us moved away immediately.
"So," Seris said lightly, "same time tomorrow?"
Lira nodded. "Yes. We need consistency."
"And maybe," Seris added, eyes glinting, "we just like seeing each other."
Lira's lips curved. "Maybe."
She turned to me. "Rest. If the bond feels… off during the night, reach out."
"Both of us," Seris added.
I nodded. "I will."
We stood there a second longer, as if none of us wanted to be the first to break away.
Then Lira stepped forward.
She placed her hand briefly over my heart, right where the mark burned beneath my shirt.
"Good night, Arin," she said softly.
Warmth bloomed in my chest.
"Good night," I said.
She gave Seris a small nod. "Good night, Seris."
"Night, Lira," Seris said, for once without teasing.
Lira walked toward her wing, her figure gradually swallowed by shadow.
I turned to go my own way, but Seris caught my sleeve lightly.
"One more thing," she said.
I looked at her. "What?"
She studied my face for a moment, her usual grin nowhere to be seen. "Don't let them scare you."
"The Council?" I asked.
"Everyone," she said. "Them. The teachers. Even us." A faint smile tugged at her mouth. "Especially us."
I huffed a quiet laugh. "You're not that scary."
"Give it time," she smirked. Then, softer, "Whatever this becomes… let it be because you chose it. Not because someone else decided what you're supposed to be."
I swallowed. "I'll try."
"Good." She hesitated, then leaned in and bumped my shoulder with hers. "Sleep well, center of the universe."
"I'm not—"
"You kind of are," she said, stepping back. "See you tomorrow, Arin."
She walked away, braid swaying behind her, disappearing into the lamplight.
I stood there alone for a moment, the quiet of the courtyard wrapping around me.
Except I didn't really feel alone.
The bond hummed softly—two presences anchored somewhere else on the grounds, both faint and familiar.
Lira's calm.
Seris's spark.
And me.
Somewhere in the middle. Not a balance point, not yet. But maybe… one day.
I turned toward my dorm, the night air cool against my face.
Tomorrow, the Council would keep watching.
The shrine's echoes would still linger somewhere beyond the hills.
Our bond would keep changing.
But for tonight, as my mark pulsed in time with distant heartbeats that were not mine, I carried one simple truth with me:
Whatever this was, whatever we were becoming—
I didn't want to run from it anymore.