Lyra woke to light that wasn't her own.
It pulsed softly through her skin — blue threaded with gold — casting faint patterns across the cracked ceiling above her. For a moment, she didn't remember where she was. Then the scent of smoke, metal, and Kael's quiet breathing pulled her back.
They had found shelter in one of the smaller towers of Merinth, its walls half collapsed and open to the stars. Kael sat nearby, sharpening his blade in silence, the rhythm steady and precise.
You didn't sleep, she said softly.
He didn't look up. Didn't need to.
You say that like you're not half machine.
He smiled faintly. I am half machine.
Half, she echoed, pulling her cloak tighter. Meaning there's still something human left.
Kael glanced at her. You're relentless.
Persistent, she corrected. Relentless sounds rude.
That almost drew a laugh from him, but before he could reply, the air between them shifted — a faint vibration, like a heartbeat echoing out of sync. Lyra frowned. Do you feel that?
Kael's expression darkened. The bond. It's stabilizing.
Except it didn't feel stable. It felt alive.
Lyra closed her eyes — and the world changed.
Suddenly she wasn't in the tower anymore. She was standing in a room of white glass and silver light. Voices whispered from somewhere unseen, murmuring words she didn't understand.
Then she saw him — Kael, younger, his eyes cold and empty. Wires trailed from his skin, connecting him to machines that hummed like distant thunder. A woman stood before him, her features gentle, her presence radiating calm.
Elara, Lyra whispered.
The woman turned — and for a heartbeat, Lyra felt her gaze pierce right through her. He will remember, Elara said softly. Even if they take everything else.
The scene rippled — dissolved — and Lyra gasped, snapping back into the present.
Her hands trembled. I saw her. I saw you.
Kael's eyes narrowed. What did you see?
You — in a lab. Machines everywhere. And her… Elara. She said you'd remember.
He went still, the blade forgotten in his hand. That was my first awakening. They wiped that memory from my core.
Well, it's back, Lyra whispered. And it felt real. Like I was there.
Kael stood, pacing to the edge of the ruined wall. The link must have fused deeper than the Archivist warned. You're not just seeing — you're reliving.
Lyra rose, heart pounding. Then that means I can see what they did to you.
He turned sharply. No.
Kael—
No, he repeated, voice sharper. You don't want to see that.
Maybe I need to, she said. If I'm going to understand what you are — what we are.
He stared at her for a long moment, the wind pulling at his hair, the faint glow beneath his skin pulsing in rhythm with hers. Understanding doesn't erase pain.
Neither does silence, she said quietly.
The tension hung between them, tight and fragile. Finally, Kael sighed. If you push deeper, it will hurt you.
Then we'll hurt together.
His expression softened, and for the first time, she saw fear in his eyes — not for himself, but for her. You shouldn't say things like that.
Why?
Because you mean them.
Lyra smiled faintly. Maybe that's the problem.
She stepped closer, her hand brushing his sleeve. The bond flared again — light and heat threading between their skin. For an instant, the tower around them faded, and they stood in another place entirely.
They were on a battlefield — steel, fire, and smoke. Kael stood over Elara's fallen body, his blade dripping with silver light. His voice — their voice — broke with grief.
I was made to protect you, he whispered, and I failed.
Lyra gasped, feeling the pain like her own. She fell to her knees as the vision shattered.
When she opened her eyes again, Kael was kneeling beside her, his hands gripping her shoulders. Lyra! Look at me!
She did — and saw his fear, raw and real. I saw it, she whispered. The day she died.
Kael's voice was low. That memory destroyed me once. Don't let it destroy you too.
Lyra's throat tightened. You think I'm afraid of your past?
You should be.
I'm not, she said fiercely. Because I see what's left of you now — and it's still good. Still human.
He looked away, jaw tight. You don't know what you're saying.
Yes, I do, she said, reaching for his hand. You were made to protect love. Maybe you just forgot what that means.
The silence stretched, filled only by the hum of their bond. Then Kael spoke, his voice almost a whisper. And if I remember?
Then maybe, she said softly, you'll learn to feel it again.
Their hands remained joined, golden and blue light swirling together until the color between them turned to white. Neither moved, neither spoke — but something shifted inside them both.
For the first time since their bond began, it didn't feel like a curse.
It felt like a heartbeat.
Outside, the ruins trembled faintly, as if responding to their shared pulse. Somewhere deep within Merinth, ancient machinery stirred, awakening to a power long thought dead.
Far away, in the obsidian halls of the Council, a dozen eyes opened in unison.
The link has awakened, a voice murmured.
Then the end begins.