the morning peace doesn't last long
For the first time in weeks, we walked through the academy halls without my chest tight, my mind fogged, or the fracture stirring restlessly inside me.
It was quiet.
Warm.
Almost content.
Lira walked beside me, fingers loosely linked with mine, humming under her breath like the morning had softened her entire world. Seris walked on my other side, alert as always, but without the defensive tension she normally carried.
The three of us didn't speak.
We didn't need to.
The bond hummed faintly, like a small thread connecting our hearts.
And then—
People stared.
Not subtly.
Not casually.
Whispers followed us down the hall like shadows.
Lira's fingers tightened. "Arin… they're looking at us."
Seris rolled her eyes. "Let them look."
But even she noticed it—there was a difference today.
The air around us didn't feel like three people walking side by side.
It felt like a single presence.
Unified.
Warm.
Halin stepped out of a side corridor just as we approached the training hall. She didn't scold us for being late. She didn't demand explanations.
She just stared.
"Arin."
Her voice was soft. Too soft.
I tensed. "Yes?"
Her eyes moved to Lira.
Then Seris.
Then me again.
"…Your resonance levels are wrong."
Seris raised a brow. "Wrong how?"
Halin didn't answer immediately. She lifted her hand and murmured a detection spell — simple, low-level. A spell she'd performed on us a hundred times before.
But this time—
the runes around her hand flared bright.
Golden.
Warm.
Triadic.
Lira gasped. "That's… not academy resonance."
Halin exhaled shakily, lowering her hand. "It isn't."
The bond pulsed inside my chest — and for the first time, I wasn't the only one who felt its answer.
Seris placed a steadying hand on my back.
Lira reached for my shoulder.
The warmth spread through the three of us — quiet but unmistakable.
Halin stepped back a pace. "The fracture… you three… your resonance is merging."
She looked overwhelmed — not afraid, but stunned in a way scholars rarely allowed themselves to show.
"Arin," she whispered. "Do you understand what this means?"
I swallowed. "No."
Lira shook her head gently. "We didn't try to make this happen."
Seris stood straighter, jaw set. "Whatever it means, we handle it together."
All three of us felt the pulse inside the bond — soft, agreeing.
Halin watched the warmth move between us like a heartbeat she couldn't interpret.
"This is unprecedented," she said. "You're not a triad anymore."
The air thickened.
Lira's breath hitched. "Then what are we?"
Halin took a slow, careful breath.
"A single resonance."
Her voice shook.
"Three hearts… one presence."
My stomach tightened. "Is that dangerous?"
Her eyes softened — emotional, almost protective.
"No. Not dangerous."
Then she added, whispered like a revelation:
"Beautiful… but terrifying."
Seris moved closer to me instinctively. "We're not afraid."
Lira's voice trembled, but her hand slid into mine anyway. "We trust each other."
The fracture pulsed again — content.
Halin pressed a hand over her mouth, overwhelmed by what she was seeing.
"This is the first time in recorded history," she said. "A triad becoming a single emotional entity."
I didn't know what to say.
Seris answered for all of us.
"We're not losing who we are."
Her hand tightened on my shoulder.
"We're becoming us."
Lira nodded softly. "Together."
Halin whispered, "Then the academy needs to prepare… because everything is about to change."
And the bond pulsed once more — steady, warm, alive —
as if agreeing.
Halin led us into her study room — not the formal training hall, not the medical wing — a quiet space filled with old scrolls, rune lamps, and a wooden desk barely holding itself together under the weight of piled books.
She didn't speak at first.
She just… looked at us.
Not with suspicion.
Not with fear.
But with the quiet reverence of someone witnessing something they'd only ever read about in theory.
"Sit," she said gently.
We sat.
Together.
Without discussing it.
Without thinking about it.
Three chairs.
One movement.
Lira folded her hands tightly in her lap.
Seris rested her arm behind my chair, close but not quite touching.
I kept my palms flat, trying not to let the fracture react too strongly.
Halin watched the small details.
"You're synchronized," she murmured. "Emotionally… instinctively. Even your breathing is aligned."
I stiffened — slightly.
And immediately Lira's hand brushed mine, calming.
Seris leaned forward, grounding me with her presence.
Halin took a slow breath. "There. That. That response."
"We weren't trying to do anything," I whispered.
"I know." Her eyes softened. "That's exactly why it's remarkable."
Lira spoke softly. "Is this bad?"
"No," Halin said firmly. "It's… complicated."
Seris frowned. "Complicated how?"
Halin paced slowly, thinking aloud.
"When two mages resonate, they share a limited emotional link. When three do, the link forms a triad — balanced, but still separate."
She stopped right in front of us.
"You three… aren't separate anymore."
The bond pulsed once — small, warm — as if acknowledging the truth.
And Halin felt it.
She gasped. "There it is."
I froze. "You felt that?"
"Not in my chest," she corrected quietly. "In the air. Resonance thickens when a bond strengthens. Your presence — the three of you — is stronger than most trained pairs."
Lira looked down. "We didn't mean to change anything."
Seris shook her head. "We didn't even know we could."
Halin stepped closer — almost kneeling to match our height.
"This is not something to apologize for. This is evolution."
Evolution.
The word settled deep inside me.
Lira's fingers curled around mine again, hesitant.
Seris exhaled slowly, her posture shifting into something protective.
Halin saw that too.
"See?" she whispered. "His fear rises — you both respond."
"We've always responded," Seris muttered.
"But now you respond without choice," Halin said softly. "The bond is instinct."
Lira's voice trembled, "Does that mean we can't choose anymore?"
Halin placed a gentle hand on Lira's shoulder.
"No. It means you already made your choice."
The warmth inside my chest surged — and for a heartbeat, I felt Lira's fear and Seris's determination layered on top of my own emotion like threads braiding together.
Seris leaned toward Halin. "So what happens next?"
Halin hesitated.
And that hesitation sent a cold ripple through me.
But before the fear could take hold, Lira squeezed my hand.
Seris rested her palm between my shoulder blades.
And the fracture answered with warmth.
Halin watched the whole chain reaction.
"This," she whispered, voice soft and awed.
"This is why everything is changing."
Halin finally sat down across from us, folding her hands in a way that signaled she was preparing to ask something difficult. The room felt too quiet, too still — like it knew the conversation had shifted.
Her eyes moved to my chest.
Not aggressively.
Not fearfully.
Just… searching.
"Arin," she said carefully, "may I ask you something about the fracture?"
Seris shifted.
Lira tensed.
The bond pulled tight — a protective instinct flaring before I could answer.
I breathed slowly. "Ask."
Halin hesitated. "Does it still harm you?"
"No," I said instantly.
Then softer: "It hasn't in a long time."
Lira's voice was gentle but firm. "It comforts him now."
Seris crossed her arms. "And it knows us."
Halin's brows lifted slightly. "It knows you?"
I nodded. "It feels through me. And recently… through them."
Lira whispered, cheeks warming, "We don't hide from it anymore."
Halin leaned back, absorbing everything. "And do you… speak to it?"
The room went very still.
"We don't speak," I said. "Not in words. It… feels."
Seris added quietly, "It listens."
Halin's expression softened. "What does it feel like?"
I searched for the right explanation. Lira and Seris watched me closely, their emotions gathering around mine like protective wings.
"It feels like…" I started, but the words refused to form.
Lira touched my arm. "You can say it."
"It feels like a child," I whispered.
"Scared. Alone. Needing someone."
Halin closed her eyes for a brief moment — as if she didn't expect that answer. When she opened them again, they were full of something between pain and awe.
"So it isn't a parasite," she murmured.
"It's a consciousness."
The bond trembled — not violently, not fearfully — but warningly.
Seris leaned forward, tone low. "You're not taking it from him."
Halin held up her hand. "I never said I would."
But the bond didn't relax.
Not until Lira slipped her hand into my sleeve, steadying me, sending soft reassurance through the connection.
Halin swallowed. "…Alright. Then let me ask something else."
She looked directly at me.
"Arin… is it aware of me right now?"
Before I could answer —
before I could even inhale —
a faint warmth pulsed in my chest.
Once.
Lira's eyes widened. "It answered."
Seris sat up straighter. "It reacted."
Halin blinked rapidly, stunned. "That was it?"
I nodded. "It's watching."
Halin looked almost emotional. "A living, thinking resonance… ancient, and tied to all three of you…"
She stood slowly, as if afraid to break something unseen.
"I need you to understand something," she said softly.
"You are no longer students learning about magic."
Her eyes moved between the three of us — our linked hearts, our shared warmth, our protective instinct.
"You are the magic now."
The bond pulsed in agreement.
But something else pulsed underneath it — soft, uncertain.
The fracture sensed her fear.
Or curiosity.
Or both.
Lira whispered, "Arin… it's nervous."
Seris narrowed her eyes. "Why?"
Halin exhaled.
"Because," she said quietly, "we have no idea what it will become."
The bond tightened around me —
Lira's worry, Seris's resolve, my own steadying breath —
and the fracture pulsed once more, this time stronger.
We didn't speak aloud.
We didn't have to.
All three of us felt the same instinct rise:
No matter what it becomes —
we stay together.