The morning air felt sharper than usual, crisp enough to sting Lyria's lungs as she stepped onto the Academy terrace overlooking the training grounds. She could sense it immediately—something in the atmosphere was different. Not the shift in weather, not the distant hum of early drills, but something deeper, more personal, a tug in her chest that felt like a warning.
Her Link Spark flickered under her ribs, as if responding to an unseen pressure.
Kairo stood waiting near the eastern railing, arms folded, posture tight in a way she hadn't seen before. He wasn't wearing his usual relaxed half-smirk, nor the focused neutrality he adopted during training. His expression was unreadable—too still, too controlled.
That alone set Lyria on edge.
"What's wrong?" she asked, voice soft but steady.
Kairo didn't answer immediately. He looked at her—really looked—and she felt the weight in his gaze before he dropped it to the floor, jaw tightening.
"It's the Council," he said finally. "They made a decision overnight."
Her breath stumbled. "About—about my Spark?"
"Yes."
For a moment, time seemed to compress into a cold, fragile silence. She felt the Link Spark stir again, like a pulse of instinctive fear.
Kairo took a slow breath. "Lyria… you're being assigned a Guardian."
Her heart sank.
She had known, deep down, that this day would come. Rare Sparks always drew the Council's attention. But knowing and hearing it spoken aloud were different. One felt like a concept; the other felt like a shackle dropping into her hands.
"A Guardian," she repeated, her voice thinner than she wanted. "Because they think I'm dangerous."
Kairo didn't deny it. His silence answered for him.
Lyria stepped back, pulse quickening. "I have control. Yesterday's drills went well. I didn't lose control, I didn't—"
"This isn't about your failure." His tone was firm but gentle. "The Council saw your resonance levels from the formation test. Link Sparks aren't predictable, and yours is… unusually active."
A chill threaded down her spine. "Active how?"
Kairo hesitated. "Your Spark responded to mine. And to the drones. And to the environment. The Council thinks your Link Spark isn't just rare—it's evolving."
The ground seemed to tilt beneath her.
Evolving.
That could mean anything. Power, danger, unpredictability. The Academy had no manual for that. And the Council never gambled with unknowns.
Her voice thinned into a whisper. "So they want someone to watch me."
"Not watch." He finally lifted his gaze again. "Protect you. Stabilize you. Help you grow. And prevent anyone from misusing your Spark."
She felt the sting in her chest—not the spark this time, but something painfully human. "Then who—who is it? Who's my Guardian?"
Kairo let a breath out, slow and heavy. "Me."
It took Lyria a moment to process the words.
"You?" she repeated, stunned.
"Yes."
"But—you already have duties. Responsibilities. Your Skyblade assessments. Your missions. The Council needs you—why would they take you away from all of that to—"
"Because," Kairo interrupted, eyes steady for the first time that morning, "my spark matches yours."
Her words tangled. "Matches?"
"Skyblade Sparks stabilize energy-based variants. Link Sparks resonate with structured sparklines. We're compatible in ways that matter for safety." He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "You can overwhelm a lot of Guardians with resonance alone. And most Guardians can't anchor a Link Spark without risking burnout."
"So they picked you," she whispered.
"They didn't just pick me," Kairo said quietly. "I volunteered to be your guardian."
Lyria's breath lodged in her throat.
"You… volunteered?"
Kairo didn't blink. "I wasn't letting them assign you someone who would treat you like a threat."
The words hit harder than she expected. Something inside her cracked—not in a painful way, but in a fragile, disbelieving one. Her Spark flickered in response, warm but uncertain.
"You didn't have to do that," she said softly.
"I know," he replied. "But I wanted to."
Silence stretched between them—weighted, real. Human.
Lyria looked away first, blinking hard. "So… what now? What does this mean for me?"
Kairo's expression softened, the tension in his shoulders easing. "It means you're not alone. It means I'm responsible for keeping you steady, helping you train, even intervening if your Spark becomes overwhelming."
"That sounds… intense," she murmured.
"Guardian Bonds usually are."
A faint breeze swept across the terrace, brushing her hair across her cheek. She tucked it behind her ear, trying to steady her breathing.
"Is it dangerous?" she asked quietly. "The Bond?"
He hesitated for the first time.
"Yes," he admitted. "For both of us."
The fear must've flashed in her eyes, because Kairo added quickly, "It's only dangerous if there's no trust. And I trust you."
Her chest tightened.
"And… you trust me?" she asked.
"Enough to volunteer," he said simply.
A soft hum pulsed beneath her ribs, and she realized her Spark was reacting to his words—warm, steady, almost hopeful.
"Kairo…" She swallowed. "What do we have to do now?"
He nodded toward the doorway leading deeper into the Academy. "They're waiting in the Binding Hall."
That made her freeze. "The Binding Hall? Isn't that—"
"The place where all Guardian Bonds are formalized," he finished.
She exhaled shakily. "I thought… I thought that was only for elite pairs."
"You are an elite case."
She didn't have a reply for that.
"Come on," Kairo said, voice softer than she'd ever heard from him. "You're ready for this. And I'll walk with you the whole way."
Lyria nodded, even though her legs felt unsteady beneath her. The Spark inside her pressed gently against her ribs, as if urging her forward.
Together, they walked.
---
The Binding Hall was nothing like she expected.
She'd imagined something cold, ceremonial, distant—like the Council chamber. But the Hall was softer, warmer. The walls glowed with faint silver-blue lines of ancient sparkrunes, pulsing gently like a living heartbeat. The ceiling arched high above them, painted with constellations she recognized from her childhood, each rendered in delicate gold.
The room felt alive.
A group of instructors and Council observers stood waiting around a circular stone platform in the center. At its edge was a sigil Lyria had only seen in textbooks:
The Dual Arc.
Symbol of the Guardian Bond.
Her hands trembled.
Instructor Vael stepped forward. His calm eyes landed on her first, then Kairo. "You arrived quickly. Good. The Bond must be formed while both sparks are stable."
Lyria tried to speak, but her throat tightened.
Kairo nodded respectfully. "We're ready."
Vael studied them both. "Lyria, before we begin, you need to understand what the Bond requires."
Her pulse thundered.
"First," Vael said, "the Guardian will gain partial sensory access to your Spark. He will feel fluctuations when you're overwhelmed, frightened, or unstable."
Her heart squeezed. She couldn't imagine Kairo sensing her stress, her fear, her moments of doubt.
"Second," Vael continued, "your Spark will also sense his. You will feel echoes of his emotional state when his Spark shifts."
Her breath hitched. "So… it goes both ways."
"It must," Vael said. "Bonds only work through mutual trust."
Kairo stepped slightly closer—not touching, but steadying her with his presence. "We'll be fine."
Lyria nodded weakly.
Vael's voice softened. "Finally… during moments of high distress, your Sparks may try to synchronize. This can be overwhelming at first."
"How overwhelming?" Lyria whispered.
"You may feel his fear. Or he may feel yours. But it will be fleeting."
Her stomach twisted. She didn't want anyone feeling her fear. But she also didn't want to face her Spark alone anymore.
Vael gestured to the platform. "Please step into the Dual Arc."
Lyria inhaled slowly, stepped forward, and felt the air shift around her like a soft current. Kairo joined her, standing across the circle. The sparkrunes around the platform brightened.
"Place your right hand over your heart," Vael instructed. "And extend your left hand forward."
Lyria obeyed.
Kairo mirrored her.
"Now," Vael said, "reach out."
Her hand trembled as she extended it. Kairo's fingers hovered for a breath, then gently touched hers.
The moment their skin connected, Lyria felt it—
a hum of energy, soft but deep, threading through her veins like warm light.
Her Spark responded instantly, flickering, awakening.
The runes beneath them blazed gold and silver.
"Kairo," Vael said, "release your Skyblade Spark."
A cool, sharp current surged from Kairo's chest, flowing through their joined hands like a steady breeze with edges of steel. It didn't hurt—it grounded her, steadied her, strengthened her.
"Lyria," Vael said softly, "let your Link Spark reach out."
She closed her eyes and exhaled.
Her Spark unfurled—hesitant at first, then more boldly, golden threads of warmth extending toward Kairo's steady Skyblade energy.
The sparks met.
Light flared between their hands—gold and blue intertwining in a slow, spiraling arc. The hall filled with a soft hum. Lyria felt it like a second heartbeat.
And then she felt something else.
A glimpse of Kairo's presence—
his focus, sharp and warm
his concern, quiet and steady
his protective instinct, strong and unshakeable
It washed over her like a wave of certainty.
Her breath caught.
Kairo, on the other hand, stiffened slightly, then relaxed. She knew what he must be feeling: her fear, her uncertainty, her hope.
The sparks pulsed once more.
Then—
click.
A gentle final snap of energy locked into place.
The Bond sealed.
Kairo exhaled shakily. Lyria felt the echo of it, like a soft tremor in her chest.
Vael nodded in approval. "It is done. You are now Guardian and Spark-Bearer. The bond will strengthen with time."
Lyria opened her eyes slowly.
Kairo was watching her—not overwhelmed, not distant, but steady. Grounded. Present.
"How do you feel?" he asked quietly.
She swallowed. "Different. But… not alone."
A small, genuine smile touched his lips. "Good."
The Council members filed out, whispering among themselves. Instructors followed. Soon, the Hall emptied, leaving only the two of them standing in the fading glow of the Dual Arc.
Lyria took a slow breath. "Kairo… thank you. For volunteering. For not letting them assign… someone else."
"You don't need to thank me," he said. "This bond—it's not a burden. It's a responsibility I chose."
"But why?" she whispered, voice small.
Kairo hesitated. Then the truth slipped out in his steady, quiet tone:
"Because I believe in you. And I refuse to let anyone decide what you are except you."
Her Spark pulsed softly, warmth spreading through her chest.
"Kairo… I won't let you down," she whispered.
"You won't," he said simply. "And even if you stumble, I'm here. That's what a Guardian is for."
She nodded, feeling a fragile but growing confidence.
"What now?" she asked.
Kairo stepped out of the Dual Arc and extended a hand—not part of a ritual, not part of duty, but simply an offer of support.
"Now," he said with a faint smile, "we start learning how to be a team."
Lyria placed her hand in his.
And for the first time since arriving at the Academy, she felt her Spark settle in her chest—not chaotic, not confused, but steady.
Steady…
because she wasn't facing the unknown alone anymore.
The bond pulsed once, quiet and full of promise.
Whatever came next—training, danger, challenges, discovery—
she would face it with her Guardian.
And Kairo…
would face it with her.