By the time we left Halin's study, the morning sun had climbed high enough to fill the hallway with bright gold. But the warmth didn't ease the tightness in the air.
Everyone was staring.
Not curious glances.
Not passing interest.
Full, lingering looks — as if we had come back from some forbidden place changed into something unfamiliar.
Seris stiffened immediately. "They're talking."
Lira kept close to my side. "Ignore them. It doesn't matter."
But it did matter.
Because this time, their eyes weren't on me.
They were on all three of us.
On the way we walked together.
On the resonance humming in the air.
On the synchronized steps, breaths, energy.
On the faint glow around us they couldn't understand.
A few students stepped aside, whispering urgently.
"That's the triad."
"The unstable one—Arin."
"No, look at them… something changed."
"They're synchronized."
"Is that supposed to happen?"
Seris's jaw clenched. "One more word and—"
I touched her arm gently. "Don't. It's not worth it."
But the bond gave her away — her protective instinct flared through me and Lira like a warm spark. Lira squeezed her hand in response, calming her without speaking.
Students froze at the sight.
Halin stepped up behind us. "Let them look," she murmured. "They're only afraid of what they don't understand."
Seris didn't relax, but she stayed quiet.
Lira whispered, "Arin… it's reacting."
I felt it too.
The fracture pulsed in my chest — not sharp, not panicked — but alert.
Awake.
Observing the crowd with the same caution a small animal has when surrounded by strangers.
"It feels exposed," I murmured.
"Then we shield it," Seris said instantly.
And she moved slightly in front of me — subtly enough that most people wouldn't notice, but the bond responded, tightening warmly around us.
Lira moved to my other side, her hand gently sliding into mine for reassurance.
People around us stopped whispering.
I realized, with a strange twist in my chest, what they were actually seeing:
Not a dangerous triad.
Not a magical anomaly.
Not the boy with the fracture.
They saw three people who moved like a single heartbeat.
Even Halin looked shaken.
"You're forming protective resonance patterns unconsciously," she whispered. "This isn't training-level bonding. This is instinctive fusion."
Seris frowned. "Is that bad?"
"No," Halin said. "It's extraordinary. But the academy must evaluate this."
Lira swallowed. "Evaluate? That sounds like—"
"Observation," Halin corrected. "Supervision. Research. Testing."
The bond tightened — sharply.
Seris stepped closer to me. "We're not experiments."
"No," Halin whispered. "You're history."
The fracture pulsed again — stronger this time, like it understood the rising tension and braced itself. I felt its fear, small and trembling.
Lira pressed her forehead against my shoulder. "It's scared."
Seris exhaled slowly. "Then they don't get near it."
Halin looked at us all — three hearts, one presence — and her voice softened.
"I will protect you," she said. "But the academy will not ignore what you are becoming."
I felt the bond gather around us — a warm, silent agreement.
Whatever came next, whatever questions, tests, or fears —
we would face it together.
And the fracture pulsed — a small soundless whisper of trust —
us.
Again.
The summons arrived sooner than any of us expected.
We hadn't even finished walking back to our dorm wing when a courier mage intercepted us — breathless, nervous, clutching a sealed note as if it were burning in her hands.
"F-for the triad," she said, voice shaking.
Seris took the note immediately, eyes narrowing.
Lira thanked the girl softly, which only made the courier blush and hurry away.
Seris broke the seal.
Her jaw tightened. "The Council wants us. Now."
Lira paled. "All three of us?"
Seris nodded once. "Of course all three."
I felt the fracture pulse inside me again — this time a flicker of unease, like a child sensing raised voices in another room.
"It's nervous," I whispered.
Lira moved closer, placing her palm flat over my heart, warm and steady. "Hey. We're with you."
Seris stepped to my other side, her voice low and fierce. "Let them try anything. We're not alone."
The bond tightened softly, wrapping around us like threads of shared breath and emotion.
I exhaled. "We don't even know what they want."
Seris snorted. "When academies get scared, they want to control things."
Lira shook her head gently. "Or understand them."
"Same thing," Seris muttered.
But Lira reached for her hand — and Seris didn't pull away. The bond softened instantly, an emotional ripple smoothing the sharp edges.
Halin appeared at the end of the hallway, walking toward us with urgency. Her expression was complicated — worry wrapped around determination.
"I'm coming with you," she said.
Seris crossed her arms. "They only summoned us."
"And I am your advisor," Halin replied firmly. "I won't let the Council pressure you without someone on your side."
Lira's shoulders relaxed. "Thank you."
Halin glanced at my chest briefly. "Is the entity stable?"
I nodded. "It's just… unsure."
"Good," she whispered. "Let it stay close."
Seris stepped subtly in front of me again. "It doesn't leave him. Ever."
Halin met her eyes, and there was something like respect there. "No one is taking anything from him. I promise you that."
The fracture pulsed faintly — trusting Lira, trusting Seris, evaluating Halin.
Lira slipped her fingers into mine. "We're ready."
Seris placed her hand on my back, guiding me forward. "Let's go."
We walked together — through halls buzzing with whispers, through students who stepped aside instinctively, through an academy suddenly too aware of our presence.
Three people.
One heartbeat.
And as the Council chamber doors came into view, tall and imposing, I felt something unexpected inside me:
Not fear.
Not dread.
Strength.
Because the bond pulsed again — steady, warm, alive — and the meaning was unmistakable:
us.
Whatever happens — us.
The Council chamber was colder than the rest of the academy — tall stone arches, dim rune lamps, and a polished floor that reflected us like a distorted mirror. The moment the doors opened, a dozen pairs of eyes turned toward us.
Some curious.
Some cautious.
Some fearful.
None indifferent.
Lira's hand tightened around mine.
Seris stood close enough that our shoulders brushed.
The fracture pulsed again — small, timid, searching.
Halin moved ahead, addressing the semi-circle of robed figures.
"I bring the triad of Vale for inquiry."
A murmur spread through the room at the word triad.
One Council member, a man with silver-threaded robes, leaned forward. "We've been informed the triad's resonance has… changed."
Seris scoffed under her breath. "Understatement of the century."
Lira elbowed her very subtly.
The bond softened the tension.
Another Council member, older and sharp-eyed, gestured toward us.
"Arin Vale. Step forward."
I didn't move.
Because before I could even inhale —
Seris stepped in front of me, blocking their view.
Lira moved to my side, ready to steady me if needed.
The bond tightened protectively, three emotions rising together:
No harm.
No pressure.
We stay together.
The room fell silent at the display.
The Council head blinked. "Interesting instinct."
Halin cleared her throat. "Their bond is not typical. Attempting to isolate one will cause emotional disruption."
Seris's voice was low but audible. "We don't separate."
The Council exchanged glances — some uneasy, some fascinated.
I stepped forward slightly, still flanked by them. "I can answer your questions. But not without them."
Lira nodded. "We're part of his resonance now."
Seris added, "Deal with all of us or none of us."
The fracture pulsed warmly — proud, relieved, holding close.
The Council head folded his hands. "Very well. All three."
A different member, a woman with ink-stained fingers, leaned in. "Arin… what is the current state of the entity inside you?"
The room tensed.
I felt the fracture shrink back — frightened of the attention.
Lira whispered softly, "It's alright. They're only talking."
Seris stood firm beside me, radiating reassurance.
I placed a hand over my chest. "It's stable."
"That is not sufficient," another Council member said. "Define 'stable.'"
I took a breath.
Lira's emotional warmth held me steady.
Seris's protective strength anchored me.
The fracture pulsed, giving me courage.
"It hasn't harmed me in weeks," I said. "It hasn't taken control. It hasn't disrupted magic."
A Council member frowned. "And has it attempted to communicate?"
Halin looked sharply at me. "Only answer what you're comfortable with."
Lira's hand squeezed mine — support, warmth, love.
Seris's presence tightened like a shield.
I swallowed. "Yes."
A ripple of surprise moved through the chamber.
The Council head leaned forward. "In what way?"
I hesitated.
Because admitting this felt like giving away something sacred.
"It feels," I whispered. "Not words. Not images. Just… feelings."
"And what was its most recent communication?"
For a moment, I thought about lying.
But the bond pulsed —
Lira's honesty,
Seris's bravery,
the fracture's fragile trust —
and I couldn't betray any of them.
"It said…"
My voice shook slightly.
"It said 'us.'"
Silence.
Cold, heavy, absolute silence.
Then—
One Council member whispered, horrified or awed — I couldn't tell which:
"It formed identity."
Another trembled. "It acknowledged itself as part of them."
Halin swallowed hard. "This is unprecedented."
Seris stepped closer to me, voice unwavering. "It's ours. And we protect it."
Lira nodded softly. "We belong to it. And it belongs to us."
I breathed out slowly.
Yes.
This was the truth.
The room finally understood:
We were not a triad with an anomaly.
We were a fourth resonance —
three hearts and one ancient child-consciousness bound together.
The world could study us.
Observe us.
Fear us.
But they could not separate us.
The fracture pulsed again —
a small, grateful, emotional whisper:
us.
And this time…
the whole Council felt it.