The city had not yet fully woken, but the air felt different—charged, humming, aware. Dawn pressed gently through the curtains of the small apartment where the three wizards sat around a table, their expressions tight with unspoken truths.
After everything that happened yesterday—glowing hands, weakened barriers, the first spark of true resonance—they could all feel it:
The bonds were awakening.
The danger was coming.
Boog sat closest to the window, arms folded, trying (and failing) to calm the faint gold glow creeping along the veins of his hand. Jonk leaned back in his chair, jaw tight, pretending he wasn't shaken by how violently his energy had reacted to Tawan the night before. Donk paced slowly, each step too controlled, too careful, as if he feared the ground might shift beneath him.
No one spoke.
The silence was heavier than magic.
At last, Boog exhaled.
"We're losing control of our resonance."
Jonk scoffed quietly. "Tell me something I don't know."
But Donk didn't laugh. He stopped pacing and finally turned to face them, eyes storm-dark.
"It's not just the resonance. It's the veil. Something's interfering with it."
He paused.
"And whatever it is… found us last night."
Boog stiffened. "You sensed it too?"
Jonk leaned forward. "Wait. What exactly did you feel?"
Donk hesitated. "A pulse. Like someone from our realm… or something not human… brushed against the barrier. Trying to force it open."
Jonk's expression hardened. "So, we're not alone anymore."
Boog lowered his gaze toward his hand. The golden glow pulsed softly at Nawin's memory, and he whispered, "Then we need to keep our lovers safe. Before the darkness smells them on us."
As the sun rose, their magic grew restless.
And across the city, their lovers stirred—unaware that fate was tightening around their hearts.
🌟 Nawin
Nawin knew something was wrong the moment he woke.
It wasn't the headache from dreaming too vividly—it was the warmth in his chest. A soft, rhythmic heat, like sunlight blooming just beneath his skin.
He sat up slowly, pressing a hand to his heart.
"Boog…?"
The name slipped out of him unbidden.
He didn't remember everything from the dream, but he remembered Boog. The glowing landscape. The soft voice that felt like home. The confession that still echoed inside him:
"You're mine."
He shook his head, cheeks flushing.
What kind of dream was that?
But then he saw it.
A faint shimmer around his fingers.
Light. Gold.
Not imagined.
Not fading.
Real.
"What… the hell…?"
He panicked and hid his hand under the blanket, as if that would erase the glow. But it only pulsed harder, syncing to a distant rhythm he did not understand.
A knock on the door startled him.
"Morning!" his aunt called. "Breakfast is ready!"
"Y–yeah! Coming!"
As her footsteps faded, Nawin stood shakily.
His heart pulsed again, warm and familiar.
And for the first time, he wondered if Boog's strange words weren't a dream at all.
🔥 Tawan
Tawan woke with a gasp.
His chest hurt—not painfully, but intensely, like a warm hand was pressing gently but firmly over his heart. His breath came light and uneven.
He clutched his shirt.
"What is… this?"
Memory slammed into him:
Jonk kneeling over him.
Jonk's energy pouring into him like fire and lightning.
Visions he couldn't understand.
War. Blood. A burning forest.
Jonk screaming something in a language Tawan somehow felt instead of heard.
He stumbled to the bathroom and splashed water on his face.
But when he lifted his head, he froze.
His eyes were glowing—faint, barely there, but undeniably glowing with a reddish tint.
He gripped the sink.
"No. No, I'm just tired. I'm— I'm hallucinating—"
A sudden warmth burst from his wrist.
He yelped.
A thin red thread—pure energy—flickered briefly from his skin, connecting him to something far away.
Then it vanished.
But the shock did not.
Tawan sank to the tile floor, breathing hard.
"Jonk… what did you do to me…?"
🌙 Phum
Phum woke gently, blinking at the sunlight.
Then he froze when he saw the object on his pillow.
A glowing silver petal.
He sat up slowly, heart thudding.
No dream should leave something behind.
He touched it lightly.
The petal pulsed—soft, rhythmic, warm.
His breath caught.
"Donk…"
He whispered the name even though no one could hear him.
But someone did.
Because the petal glowed brighter.
And from somewhere deep inside him—too deep to deny—Phum felt a voice, calm and steady and heartbreakingly familiar:
"Don't be afraid."
Phum clutched the petal to his chest.
"I'm not," he whispered. "Not if it's you."
🌌 The Wizards
When the three wizards met again later that morning, the tension was more than magic—it was fear.
Boog spoke first.
"Nawin's bond is awakening faster than expected."
Jonk nodded grimly. "Tawan's too. His aura reacted to mine while we were asleep. He saw things he wasn't supposed to."
Donk held up something between his fingers.
Boog and Jonk inhaled sharply.
The glowing petal.
"He woke with this on his pillow," Donk whispered. "It crossed realms."
Boog stiffened. "Then the resonance isn't just awakening. It's merging. Human and magical energy are already syncing."
Jonk cursed under his breath. "That's too fast. We're losing control."
Donk looked out the window, voice low.
"No. Something is pushing it faster. Something wants the bonds awakened now."
Boog's eyes darkened. "Then the enemy has already begun to move."
The room fell silent.
Then Jonk stood abruptly.
"We find them."
Boog and Donk looked up.
"We stay close to them today," Jonk said firmly. "All three of them. No more distance."
Donk nodded slowly. "And if the darkness approaches… we meet it head-on."
Boog's gaze softened—not in fear, but in determination.
"For Nawin."
"For Tawan."
"For Phum."
Their hands glowed in unison—gold, red, silver—threads of destiny intertwining.
The battle had not yet begun.
But the bonds had awakened.
And now, nothing could go back