By the time the announcement came, everyone already knew.
Rumors moved faster than official notices at the academy.
"The Festival of Constellations," people whispered in the halls. "They're actually bringing it back this year."
"The sky will be clear, they said. Best starfield in a decade."
"Do you think they'll open the upper terraces again?"
I didn't pay much attention at first. Festivals meant crowds, noise, too many lights. The bond had made my senses sharper lately; sometimes even the dining hall felt like too much. The idea of the entire academy glowing and humming with magic all at once made my mark twinge in quiet protest.
But then I heard the words "mandatory attendance" and "public resonance display," and suddenly it wasn't just background chatter anymore.
The official notice went up in the central hall three days before the event:
> All students are required to attend the Festival of Constellations.
Magical illumination, food stalls, games, and performances will be held in the main courtyard and upper terraces.
Select students may also be called upon to participate in formal resonance demonstrations for visiting dignitaries.
And under that, in narrow, sharper script:
> Note: Cadets Arin Vale, Lira Thalen, and Seris Kael are requested for evaluative observation during the celestial phase.
— Councilor Dareth
Seris read that last line aloud, slowly, with an exaggerated tone. "Are requested for evaluative observation," she repeated, wrinkling her nose. "Sounds fancy. Feels like 'we're going to stare at you and take notes'."
"Because that's exactly what it is," Lira said, studying the notice. "The celestial phase… that's when the constellation lights are fully activated. The field will be thick with magic."
"And we'll be in the middle of it," I said.
The bond pulsed softly in response—uneasy, alert.
Seris nudged my arm with her elbow. "Hey. Look on the bright side. Free food. Pretty lights. You with two gorgeous girls in festival clothes."
I choked. "That's not—"
Lira raised an eyebrow. "You're aware we can hear you, Seris."
Seris grinned. "Yes. That's the point."
Despite myself, I felt a flicker of warmth under the embarrassment. The idea of being there with them… It made the festival seem less overwhelming.
Maybe even something to look forward to.
---
The day came faster than I expected.
The academy transformed.
Banners in midnight blue and silver hung from the high walls, painted with constellations that shifted slowly if you looked at them too long. Lanterns shaped like stars and moons floated in lazy arcs across the courtyard, tethered by thin strands of magic that shimmered faintly with each breeze.
Students bustled everywhere—some in simple robes, others in altered uniforms, bits of personality peeking through custom stitching and added charms. Laughter and excited chatter layered over the music echoing from the main plaza, where a group of musicians tuned their instruments with bursts of softly glowing notes.
At sunset, I stood near the lower steps of the main staircase, feeling strangely out of place in my formal academy coat. The cloth felt stiffer than usual, the collar slightly too tight. I tugged at it once, then forced my hands to still.
"Stop fidgeting," a voice said behind me. "You'll wrinkle it before the starlights even turn on."
I turned.
Lira descended the steps like she'd stepped out of one of the old constellation tapestries.
She wore formal academy colors, but in a way I'd never seen before—midnight-blue fabric that fell in clean lines, silver threads stitched subtly along the sleeves in patterns that suggested leaves and starlight rather than obvious sigils. Her hair was half-pinned, the rest flowing over her shoulders, a thin silver band resting just above her brow.
"Wow," I said, before my brain could construct a better sentence.
She paused at the last step, looking mildly amused. "Is that a technical assessment, or…?"
"It's…" I caught myself, tried again. "You look incredible."
A faint pink rose along her cheekbones. "Thank you."
The bond hummed, responding to the warm, quiet joy that stirred in her.
She looked me over in turn. "You clean up well too."
I glanced down at myself. "It's just the standard coat."
"How you wear it matters," she said simply.
I was still trying to decide whether that was a compliment or a philosophical statement when another voice cut in:
"Is this where we're gathering to dramatically glow under moonlight, or did I misread the schedule?"
Seris stepped into view, and the entire staircase suddenly felt less formal.
Her academy uniform had been altered within an inch of the dress code—still recognizable, but customized. The coat was shorter, fitted to her frame, with the sleeves rolled up to show thin, etched bracers along her forearms that glowed faintly with contained magic. She'd threaded a thin copper chain through her braid, catching the lanternlight with every movement.
"You're late," Lira said.
"I prefer 'fashionably on time'," Seris replied, spinning once. "Well? Do I pass?"
"Yes," I said too quickly.
Lira's eyes flicked to me, then back to Seris. "You look… very like yourself."
Seris grinned. "I'll take it."
The bond picked up the shift—Lira's steady admiration hidden beneath composed words, Seris's delighted satisfaction at being seen.
For a moment, it was just us on the steps, the festival a blur of color and sound around the edges of my awareness.
Then the bell tower rang, deep and clear.
The Festival of Constellations had officially begun.
---
At first, it was almost easy to forget we were under observation.
Almost.
We moved through the stalls like ordinary students. A group from the alchemy track had set up a stand where they offered harmless, color-changing drinks that glittered when you stirred them. Seris insisted we each try one.
Lira picked one that shimmered pale blue; it tasted like mint and clarity, cooling the back of my throat when I sampled it.
Seris chose something bright orange that fizzed and popped. "Spicy," she said cheerfully, eyes widening after the first sip. Then she made me try that too.
I regretted it immediately.
We passed by a game where flicks of magic had to be used to guide small glowing orbs through a shifting maze. Seris bet she could beat my time. I bet she couldn't.
She did. Twice.
"Rematch later," I muttered.
"I'll win that too," she grinned.
Lira tried a different booth—this one with small, simple resonance crystals that rang softly when touched. The vendor claimed that if two people touched the same crystal at the same time and it rang in harmony, their energies were compatible.
"Pseudoscience," Lira murmured with a faint smile. "But charming."
"Come on," Seris said. "Humor it."
They both placed their fingertips on one of the crystals. It chimed once—clear, sweet, single note.
The vendor looked disappointed. "Ah, well. At least it works."
"What was that supposed to do?" Seris asked.
"If it rang twice, you'd be romantically fated," the vendor said.
Seris barked a laugh. "Guess we're safe then."
Lira's lips twitched. "I wouldn't put too much faith in festival gimmicks."
The bond, however, chimed twice in my chest, quietly.
I said nothing.
---
It wasn't until the sky turned fully dark that things shifted.
The courtyard lanterns dimmed as the first stars appeared above. Then, with a collective murmur from the crowd, the Constellation Web activated.
Lines of magic flared into existence across the sky—thin, luminescent strands connecting star to star, tracing shapes that had only been stories before now. A hunter with a bow drawn. A serpent coiled around a broken crown. A river of light, cutting the sky in two.
The air thickened with energy.
My mark throbbed once—sharp.
I staggered.
Lira's hand was on my arm instantly. "Arin?"
"I'm okay," I said, though my heart raced. "Just… a lot of magic all at once."
Seris moved to my other side. "We can ground it if we need to."
The bond responded to their closeness, steadying.
But we weren't alone anymore.
A familiar voice floated over the crowd. "Cadets."
Councilor Dareth stood near the base of the main staircase, hands folded behind his back. Two other councilors flanked him, watching us with measured interest.
"It is time for your observation," he said. "Please, follow us to the upper terrace."
Seris muttered under her breath. "Here we go."
Lira squeezed my arm once before letting go. "We'll be fine."
We followed the Council up a side path, away from the densest part of the festival and up toward the raised stone balcony that overlooked the entire courtyard.
From here, the academy looked like something out of a storybook. Lanterns glowed in drifting clusters. Lines of magic traced faint patterns along the pathways. Students laughed, danced, and moved below like currents in a river of light.
"Stand there," Dareth said, indicating a circle etched into the terrace floor.
We stepped into it together.
Lira on my right.
Seris on my left.
At this point, the arrangement felt as natural as breathing.
"Tonight, the ambient field is enhanced by the Constellation Web," Dareth said. "We wish to observe how your triad bond behaves under such conditions. Do not force it. Simply… exist."
Seris rolled her eyes slightly. "Exist. Great. We're test plants."
Lira said nothing, but I felt a flicker of irritation on her behalf. Not at being observed—but at being reduced to an experiment.
I took a breath.
The bond moved with it.
At first, it was subtle. A shared awareness of the same sky. The same lights. The same hum of magic in the air. Then, as I relaxed into it, the connection deepened.
I felt Lira's quiet awe at the constellations revived after years of being only names in books. She'd read about this festival; she'd never seen it in full. There was a softness in her tonight that she didn't often show—a part of her that still believed in beauty for its own sake.
From Seris, there was exhilaration. The buzz of opportunity, alive and fierce. She loved being part of something big, something undeniable. The fact that the Council was watching? That only made it more thrilling for her.
Their emotions brushed against mine.
I didn't try to separate them.
I let them in.
The bond flared—not painfully, but bright, like someone adding fuel to a steady flame.
> [Triad resonance: elevating]
Ambient field amplification: 140%]
The sky seemed to draw closer.
The strands of the Constellation Web pulsed in time with our heartbeat—not just mine, but all three, overlapping in a complex rhythm that somehow settled into something steady.
Below, the festival went on—laughter, music, lanterns.
Up here, everything narrowed to three points in a circle.
Lira looked at me.
Then at Seris.
Then back at the stars.
"This feels…" she began.
"Right?" Seris finished.
Lira exhaled slowly. "Not what I was going to say. But… yes. That too."
The bond shimmered—a low, thrumming chord.
Without quite realizing when it happened, our hands found each other's.
Lira's fingers slipped into mine, warm and sure.
On my other side, Seris's hand wrapped around mine, grip firm and steady.
For a heartbeat, I panicked.
Was this too much? Too visible? Too intimate?
Then I stopped fighting it.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Dareth watching, expression nearly unreadable—but not alarmed. Analytical. Curious. Respectful, in his own distant way.
The Constellation Web above us shifted.
The lines of magic rearranged, just slightly, bending toward where we stood. Three faint, new threads of light appeared—ephemeral, almost imagined—linking the three of us to a single, small, previously unlit star near the edge of the sky.
The bond surged to meet it.
> [External anchor point detected]
Pattern classification: unknown]
I sucked in a breath.
"Arin?" Lira murmured.
"Something's… syncing," I said. "With us. Out there."
Seris squeezed my hand. "Whatever it is, we're in it together. Right?"
"Right," I said.
The new star brightened faintly.
The moment stretched.
Then, slowly, gently, the energy settled again. The Constellation Web stabilized. The star remained lit—a small, stubborn point of light—while the rest of the sky resumed its slow, ancient patterns.
The bond eased into a softer hum.
My heartbeat calmed.
The Council murmured quietly among themselves.
Dareth finally spoke. "That is enough for tonight."
We let go of each other's hands one by one, the absence of contact feeling strange after even that brief connection.
"You may rejoin the festival," he said. "There will be time for analysis later."
"Great," Seris said. "My favorite word."
Lira inclined her head politely. "Thank you, Councilor."
We descended the stairs back toward the courtyard.
No one stopped us.
No one else seemed to know anything had happened.
---
Back among the crowd, everything felt louder.
The music had picked up tempo. Someone had started dancing in rhythm with flickering illusion-lights that burst like fireworks overhead. A few pairs spun in careful circles under the lanterns, laughing as they misstepped and recovered.
I turned to Lira and Seris.
"You two can go enjoy the festival," I said. "You don't have to stay with me the whole time."
Lira frowned faintly. "Do you want us to go?"
"No," I admitted. "But you might want things I don't."
Seris snorted. "You're part of what I want, actually."
Lira's gaze sharpened. "Same."
I blinked. "…Oh."
Seris laughed. "You're adorable when you're slow."
Lira looked between us, then at the dancing students. "Would you like to…?" She trailed off, clearly searching for the word.
"Dance?" Seris supplied.
Lira nodded once.
I opened my mouth, panicked. "I—I don't really dance."
"Good," Seris said. "Then we'll be terrible together."
She grabbed my wrist before I could escape and dragged me toward the edge of the impromptu dancing circle.
Lira followed, more slowly, eyes glimmering.
The music shifted into a steady, lilting pattern. Not formal ballroom steps, just something meant to move with.
"Here," Seris said, stepping in front of me. "Follow my lead."
"That's probably a bad idea," I muttered.
She put my hands on her waist for a second, then slid one to a safer place near her elbow, still grinning. "Relax. It's just rhythm."
She moved first—small, confident steps. I stumbled at least three times, nearly stepped on her foot twice, and bumped into another couple once.
She laughed, bright and unbothered. "You're a disaster," she said. "But you're trying. It's endearing."
"If I survive this, you owe me," I said.
"Deal," she replied. "Claim it later."
The bond vibrated with her joy. It carried through me like warmth.
After a few more passes, she spun away with a flourish, letting my hand slip free.
"Your turn," she said, stepping back. "Someone else wants you."
I turned—
Lira stood where Seris had been a second ago.
She didn't grab me.
She just held out her hand.
"May I?" she asked.
I swallowed. "I really am terrible at this."
"I know," she said, a hint of a smile on her lips. "I'll take small steps."
I took her hand.
Her other hand rested, feather-light, near my shoulder. We moved slowly at first, almost just swaying in place. The world narrowed to the feel of her fingers, the warmth of her so close, the steady sound of her breathing.
"You're doing fine," she murmured.
"How can you tell?" I asked.
"Because I don't feel like my toes are in danger," she replied.
I laughed softly.
The bond flowed between us—quieter than with Seris's wild joy, but deeper. There was something grounding in it, like roots growing.
We turned in a small circle, lanternlight catching in her hair.
For a few breaths, I forgot anyone else existed.
Then I felt it—another tug at the edge of the bond. Seris's presence, bright and near, watching. Not angry, not hurt… but aware.
I glanced over Lira's shoulder.
Seris stood just beyond the circle, arms folded loosely, a half-smile on her face that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Jealousy.
Not sharp, not poisonous. But real.
It brushed the bond like a discordant note.
Lira felt it too. I saw it in the way her gaze flickered briefly toward Seris, then back to me.
She didn't step away.
But her hand tightened, just a fraction.
"Complicated," I whispered without meaning to.
"Yes," she said softly. "But still… ours."
When the song ended, neither of us moved for a moment.
Then we stepped apart.
Seris sauntered over, masking the emotion I'd felt with a familiar grin. "Not bad," she said. "You only looked like you wanted to die half the time."
"Progress," I replied.
"The festival will end soon," Lira said, looking up at the constellations.
"Yeah," Seris said. "But this won't."
All three of us looked at each other then.
No words were sufficient.
The bond said enough.
It hummed steadily, all three presences interwoven—not perfect, not resolved, but undeniably there.
A new thread in the lantern light.