Morning light filtered through the east windows of the dining hall, turning the steam from the soup pots into drifting bands of gold. The air smelled of fresh bread, still-warm honey, and something herbal from the kitchens. Normally, breakfast was the quietest time of day—students moved slowly, conversations hushed, minds still waking.
Today, the silence inside me was the loudest thing in the room.
I took my usual spot by the window, not expecting company. The space beside me still held the memory of last night—the echo of Lira's head resting on my shoulder, the warmth of quiet trust. But she'd left before dawn, gently, as if afraid to wake me.
I hadn't slept much after.
My spoon stirred the porridge without me noticing. The bond pulsed faintly inside my chest, calmer than the previous night but still alive, like a sleeping heartbeat.
"May I?" someone asked.
I looked up.
Lira stood there with her tray, hair tied back neatly, but her eyes still had the softness of last night's glow. She sat without waiting for an answer, placing her tea beside mine.
We didn't speak at first. Instead, we shared the offered quiet—like two pages of the same book settling together.
"You didn't sleep much," she said finally.
"You didn't either."
She sipped her tea. "Still worth it."
I glanced around us. Other students passed by, laughing softly or rubbing sleep from their eyes. To them, this looked normal—two peers sharing breakfast. To me, the air between us still felt like something delicate and new.
"About last night…" I began.
Her gaze met mine, steady but unreadable. "We don't have to explain it. Not yet."
"Should we talk about—?"
"When the time is right," she said. "Let it grow as it wants."
Before I could answer, a voice rang out behind me.
"Well, well. I was wondering if I'd find you sulking or smiling this morning."
Seris.
She strode over without hesitation, balancing her tray in one hand like she'd been doing it all her life. Her braid swung over her shoulder; her grin was wide enough to challenge the sun.
"Good morning, Arin." She set her food down. "Morning, Lira."
Lira's polite nod was barely more than a breath. "Seris."
"You look like you both battled a storm," Seris said cheerfully, sitting across from us.
"We did," Lira said, tone calm. "In different ways."
Seris leaned back, eyebrow raised. "Interesting." Then, without missing a beat, "Arin, ready for another round of me completely outclassing you today?"
I sighed. "You won by destabilizing the ground with a gust spell and calling it adaptive strategy."
"It was adaptive," she said brightly. "And you laughed, so it counts."
Lira glanced at me. "She made you laugh?"
"Tried to," I muttered.
"So I succeeded," Seris concluded, smirking.
The tension between them wasn't hostile—it was closer to two elements that hadn't found how to combine yet. Fire and water, circling the same flame.
I felt my collarbone warm.
The bond.
And it wasn't only Lira this time.
It flickered toward Seris—faint, curious, like a candle flame nudged by wind.
Both of them looked at me at the same instant.
"Did you feel that?" Lira asked.
Seris cocked her head. "Is this what you meant by complicated—?"
Before she finished, the System flickered at the edge of my vision:
> [Resonance anomaly detected]
Additional emotional channel forming…]
I blinked hard, but the message vanished.
Neither of them pressed further. Instead, we finished breakfast carefully, conversation light but edged with something beneath it.
---
Later, we walked to the training grounds—together.
The sun was higher now, burning the mist away. Dew glittered on the grass like scattered glass. Lira walked quietly beside me, hands clasped behind her. Seris strolled on my other side, tapping her staff against the stones with easy rhythm.
Three shadows moving forward together.
Master Vellan awaited us by the east quadrant, arms folded.
"You're early," he observed. "Three of you."
Seris smiled. "We thought it might be entertaining."
"Magic isn't entertainment," he said.
"It is," she replied confidently. "If you're doing it right."
He ignored her, turning his gaze to me. "Arin. You lead today's synchronization drills."
"Me?"
"Yes. Each of you will channel a basic elemental pulse. You will hold center and balance their output."
"Do we have to?" I asked.
"Yes," he said in the tone of someone not entertaining questions.
Seris rubbed her hands together. "Well, that sounds dangerous."
Lira's eyes met mine. "Or important."
We took our positions—Lira on my right, Seris on my left. I raised my hands, letting the energy gather in my palms.
"Begin," Master Vellan called.
Lira moved first—her magic emerged quietly, like water flowing beneath ice. Seris countered with heat, bright and sudden, like a spark in tinder. I braced, trying to contain them both.
The energies resisted at first, pushing at each other through me.
"Balance," Vellan ordered.
Seris grinned. "Don't get overwhelmed, Arin."
Lira closed her eyes. "He won't."
I let myself breathe in—slow, steady.
Their magic pulsed through me like two heartbeats.
Water. Fire.
For a moment, I felt each of them separately.
Lira: calm, deep, unwavering.
Seris: alive, fierce, radiant.
Then the energies intertwined.
Not clashing.
Aligning.
The bond flared.
> [Resonance Branch: Activated]
Individuals in harmonic sync: 2 → 3]
Potential: escalating]
Seris gasped softly. "Did you feel that?"
Lira nodded, holding the flow. "Yes. But it's stable."
"It's more than stable," I said under my breath. "It's… growing."
With one last breath, I steadied the pulse and released it. The energy dispersed in a burst of harmless light.
Silence followed.
Even Master Vellan stood still for a moment too long.
Finally, he exhaled. "Again tomorrow."
Then he walked away.
---
After training, we rested beneath the old willow by the field.
Seris lay back on the grass, arms folded behind her head. "That was exhilarating."
"You nearly set the grass on fire," I said.
"You held it together," she countered.
Lira sat beside me, knees drawn up. "We need to understand this change before it escalates."
Seris tilted her head. "Why not let it escalate? Might be fun."
Lira's eyes narrowed slightly. "Fun until someone gets hurt."
Seris smiled. "Arin can handle it."
"That's not the point," Lira replied.
Their eyes met—steady, neither retreating.
"Maybe both of you are right," I said quietly.
Seris turned toward me. "You think so?"
"Yes. We move forward carefully… but we move forward."
Lira looked at me, something softening in her expression.
Seris's smile deepened.
And in that moment, sitting between them, the bond hummed again—not overwhelming, but strong enough to feel.
A promise. A question.
> [Emotional Alignment: dual-channel active]
Further resonance possible.]
They didn't see it this time.
Only I did.
And for the first time, I didn't feel afraid of what that meant.