Chapter 28 – "Threads Between Worlds"
The evening sky hung low and quiet, streaked with fading gold. The courtyard lights buzzed faintly, throwing soft halos across the wet stone paths.
Lyra leaned against the railing outside the dorm, watching drops of water roll off the edge. For once, her mind wasn't full of noise — just the distant hum of something alive under her skin.
She didn't notice Aiden until his reflection appeared beside hers in the glass.
"You've been standing here for a while," he said. His voice was calm, but his eyes studied her carefully.
"Just thinking," she murmured. "About… something that doesn't feel like a thought."
He didn't press further. Instead, he just stayed beside her, letting silence do the talking.
Inside the dorm, Mira had turned the place into her miniature lab again. Papers, ink pens, and her half-drunk coffee formed a perfect chaos.
"Lyra," she called, waving a notebook. "Did you know vampire venom might have adaptive effects depending on the carrier's—"
"Stop right there," Lyra said, walking in with a faint smile. "You're going to summon Ceal again if you keep that up."
"Summon? Please. He appears like a glitch whenever I say anything remotely scientific."
As if on cue, Ceal materialized near her desk, leaning lazily against the wall with a smirk. "Someone said science?"
Mira almost fell off her chair. "Okay, seriously—do you teleport on punchlines?"
Ceal shrugged. "Just checking your notes. You have… potential."
Mira squinted. "You look way too much like Aiden. It's creepy."
Ceal grinned wider. "That's because perfection tends to repeat."
Lyra pressed her lips together, barely hiding a laugh. Aiden's warning about Ceal still echoed in her head — Don't trust him too easily.
But watching Mira's flustered reaction was too entertaining to interrupt.
Mira pointed at Ceal. "Stay right there. I'm documenting this for mythological comparison."
"You're documenting me?" Ceal tilted his head. "Adorable."
Ryn, who had just walked in, sighed loudly. "Please tell me this isn't another of your midnight experiments, Mira."
"It's educational!" she said defensively.
"Last time you said that," Ryn muttered, "Solas almost lost his eyebrows."
Solas, passing by with Lune, stopped mid-step. "That was one spark too many. And my eyebrows are fine now."
Lune smirked. "Mostly fine."
The room broke into easy laughter — that rare, fragile kind of peace that seemed almost unreal in their world.
Later, when everyone drifted away, Lyra sat by the window again. The laughter still lingered faintly in the air. She could feel it — how different things were now. Mira was adjusting well, maybe too well, moving through this world of half-seen truths without fear.
Lyra thought about Aiden's words from earlier — how her powers were still only half-awake.
And somewhere, faintly, she could feel him again — Loren.
Not as a vision.
Not as a memory.
But as a pulse.
A quiet heartbeat that matched her own for a moment before fading again into the veil.
She didn't know what it meant yet.
But she smiled anyway — because for the first time, it didn't feel like loneliness.
Meanwhile, far away under a dim red sky, Loren stirred from a restless half-sleep. His hand moved to his chest as if something had called him.
It wasn't pain.
It was recognition — soft and strange.
"She's close," he whispered to the dark, unaware that the name forming in his mind — Lyra — was more than just a dream.
---
Chapter 29 – "Echoes Between Twins"
Morning sunlight cut through the mist like soft glass. The academy courtyard buzzed faintly — knights training, steel ringing in rhythm, and the occasional thump when someone misjudged a swing.
Mira sat cross-legged on the fence, eating an apple and pretending to take notes.
"Observation log: Ryn, perfect form. Solen, terrifying. Lune—stylish but unnecessary spin."
Lune shot her a look. "It's called flair."
Ryn snorted. "It's called wasting energy."
"Says the man who nearly decapitated a practice dummy for winking at him," Mira replied, deadpan.
A burst of laughter spread through the group. Even Solen cracked a smile — rare, brief, but real.
Lyra stood nearby with Aiden, watching them.
"They seem… lighter lately."
Aiden nodded. "It's good. They need it."
Then, a pause. "So do you."
She didn't answer, but her eyes followed Mira, who was now trying to mimic Ryn's sword stance with a stick — and failing spectacularly.
"Mira," Ryn said, exasperated. "That's not how you hold a blade."
"I'm holding it spiritually," she said solemnly.
"You're holding it upside down."
"Details."
Lyra burst into laughter, and for a fleeting moment, the world felt safe.
Later, while the others trained, Lyra wandered toward the edge of the courtyard.
She felt it again — that faint pull, a warmth in her chest that pulsed like a heartbeat not her own.
"Loren…" she whispered under her breath.
The air shimmered faintly, just enough for her to hear an echo: Lyra?
A voice — soft, distant, uncertain — yet real.
Her breath caught.
Before she could speak again, Aiden appeared beside her. "You heard it, didn't you?"
She hesitated. "It wasn't just my imagination, was it?"
Aiden shook his head slowly. "No. I felt the shift too."
His gaze darkened slightly. "The bond is surfacing."
Lyra's eyes widened. "The twin resonance?"
He nodded. "It's not just blood, Lyra. It's memory. If he's sensing you now, the barrier between worlds is thinning faster than we thought."
Back in the training yard, Mira had somehow roped Solen and Lune into helping her "study vampire combat physiology."
"Stand still," she told Solen, waving a measuring tape.
"You're not measuring my fang length, Mira."
"Scientific curiosity doesn't wait for comfort zones," she declared.
Lune chuckled. "You're either the bravest human I've ever met or the most reckless."
"Why not both?" she said cheerfully.
Ceal appeared again from nowhere, balancing a cup of tea. "Both is accurate."
Ryn groaned. "Do you ever use doors?"
"Doors are for people who knock," Ceal replied smoothly.
"You're infuriating," Ryn muttered.
"Flattery will get you nowhere," Ceal said, sipping his tea. "Now, Mira, if you're truly curious—"
"No," Aiden's voice cut across the yard, calm but final.
Ceal smirked but obeyed, fading back into the background like a shadow folding itself.
As dusk fell, the laughter slowed, and the courtyard emptied.
Lyra lingered near the old statue in the garden, her hand brushing its cool surface.
The whisper came again — faint but clear this time.
"Who… are you?"
She froze. The voice was the same — uncertain, lost — yet it tugged something deep within her.
"Loren…" she breathed, barely audible.
"Why… do I feel this… warmth?" the voice murmured faintly, fading like wind over water.
Lyra's heart twisted. He didn't know. He felt her, but didn't remember her.
"Mira?" Lyra turned slightly. Her friend was standing behind her, eyes wide, having caught the strange shimmer around her.
"Lyra… what was that?"
Lyra opened her mouth, but before she could answer, the wind shifted — carrying a chill that wasn't natural.
Aiden appeared almost instantly, sword drawn. "Everyone inside. Now."
Solen and Ryn were already moving, instincts flaring. Lune raised her hand — the air around them trembled faintly.
Something old was stirring again.
And in a place far beyond their world, Loren looked up from his campfire, the night air around him flickering faintly with unseen light.
A strange ache bloomed in his chest — warmth, sorrow, and confusion tangled together.
"Why does that voice… feel like home?" he whispered, staring into the flames.
The fire cracked softly in reply — like a heartbeat echoing across distance.
---
Chapter 30 – "The Cracked Veil"
The morning began too still.
No wind. No rustle of trees. Even the courtyard fountain, which usually bubbled and hummed through dawn, had fallen silent — its water barely moving under the pale light.
Lyra stood by her window, watching sunlight fracture through the fog. For a moment, she swore she saw faint threads of silver connecting the distant horizon — pulsing softly, like veins under skin.
She blinked. The vision vanished.
Behind her, Mira yawned dramatically and flopped back onto her bed.
"If mornings had an off switch, I'd be the first to use it."
"You already did," Lyra said, amused. "That's what snoozing five times means."
"Five is mercy," Mira replied. "I was being kind to myself."
Lyra smiled faintly, but the warmth didn't linger. The air felt heavier — not menacing, just wrong, as though reality itself was holding its breath.
By midday, the academy halls had started whispering rumors.
Lights flickered for seconds at a time. The clocks in the west corridor all froze at the same minute — then resumed, ticking in sync.
Aiden called a quiet meeting in the war room. Ryn and Solen stood at attention, while Lune leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Mira sat nearby, swinging her legs like she was part of a secret council meeting — which, technically, she was.
Ceal wasn't supposed to be there.
Naturally, he was.
"You're not on the list," Ryn muttered.
"Neither is breakfast," Ceal said. "Yet it's essential for survival."
"You're comparing yourself to breakfast?" Lune asked, eyebrow raised.
"I'm universally desired and often taken too late in the day," Ceal replied smoothly.
Mira snorted. Lyra covered her mouth to hide a smile.
But the humor thinned quickly when Aiden placed a glowing crystal on the table — its surface fractured, light spilling in trembling pulses.
"This," he said quietly, "was taken from the barrier wall this morning."
Lune frowned. "It's resonating… out of sync."
"The Veil's reacting," Aiden continued. "To something inside the academy."
Ceal's gaze slid to Lyra — not accusingly, but knowingly.
"You mean someone," he said softly.
Aiden's expression hardened. "Ceal."
"Relax, Commander. I'm only observing. It's what I do best," Ceal said, holding up his hands in mock innocence. "But even you feel it, don't you? The pulse beneath the ground. It's not malevolent… yet."
That night, Lyra couldn't sleep.
Every time she closed her eyes, she felt it — the pull. A heartbeat not her own, echoing faintly through the silence.
When she finally drifted into slumber, she found herself standing in a vast expanse of glowing mist.
And someone else was there.
A boy with silver-gray eyes and dark hair stood across the misty plane. His expression was blank, but his gaze was searching — almost fearful.
"You again…" he murmured, voice soft. "Why do I keep dreaming of you?"
Lyra's breath trembled.
"Do you… know me?"
He frowned, pained. "I should. I feel like I should."
He reached out a hand, the mist rippling around his fingers. "But every time I try to remember, something pulls it away."
The mist around them flickered violently, and before she could respond, Aiden's voice echoed faintly from the waking world — Lyra!
The vision shattered.
She woke up with a gasp. Aiden was by her side instantly, hand steadying her shoulder.
"You were resonating again," he said. His tone was calm, but his eyes betrayed the fear underneath. "The whole barrier pulsed with it."
Mira stirred awake, half-sitting, hair a tangled mess.
"What do you mean the barrier pulsed? Like… literally?"
"Literally," Ceal said from the doorway, sipping tea as though it were morning already. "Half the west wall lit up like a heartbeat. Very poetic. Mildly concerning."
"Ceal!" Aiden snapped.
"Relax," Ceal said lazily. "No one's dead yet."
"Yet?" Mira squeaked.
"Figure of speech," he said smoothly, then turned his sharp gaze toward Lyra. "You saw him again, didn't you?"
Lyra froze. "How do you—?"
"Because the Veil sings when it trembles," Ceal replied. "And right now, it's humming your name."
A heavy silence followed. Even Mira didn't joke this time.
Aiden's jaw tightened. "Enough. No one touches the Veil or investigates it without my order."
Ceal smiled faintly, already knowing he would disobey that rule.
Far away — across another realm — Loren sat near the edge of a dying forest, his campfire flickering weakly against the cold wind.
He stared into the flames, hand against his chest. The warmth he'd felt last night still lingered, faint but persistent.
"Why does that voice keep calling to me…" he whispered, closing his eyes.
The faintest image crossed his mind — a girl with pale eyes and light in her hair.
He didn't know her. And yet, his heart ached as if he did.
When he looked up again, the stars overhead seemed to shimmer like a thousand thin cracks in the sky — as though something, somewhere, was trying to break through.