Solarium of Serenity, Golden sector
Caelestis Prime
Earth's exo-atmospheric orbit
2435 A.D.
After Julia slipped out—offering them a final, knowing smile before the door whispered shut—silence settled between Naia and Ellira like a fragile veil. The room felt suddenly too warm, too intimate.
Naia sat stiffly on the edge of the bed, trying to breathe around the weight of everything Ellira had just explained. Her mind swirled with terms—Harmonic resonance, emotional sync, soul-pattern alignment—but none of it compared to the real revelation:
Her soul was bonded to someone else. Not metaphorically. Not spiritually. Literally.Linked. Exposed. Sharing currents of thought and feeling she'd never allowed anyone to reach.
For someone who had spent her whole life sensing others, reading emotions like a second language, it was jarring to be on the receiving end. To feel someone else's heartbeat thrum against her own, someone else's embarrassment coloring her cheeks, someone else's joy swelling in her chest.
She swallowed hard. Ellira stood across from her, wringing her hands, her golden Lumenis aura flickering softly—nervous, apologetic, hopeful, all tangled together. Naia didn't need to guess. She felt it.
"So…" Naia finally managed, voice unsteady. "Is this permanent?"
Ellira perked up slightly, glad for something concrete to answer. "Oh! Not really—not at this stage." She moved closer, her braid swaying as she gestured with her hands. "The Symphoria Link has four levels. It can be formed at any level, but most of the time it grows naturally."
Naia nodded slowly, absorbing.
"Right now, we're at Level One—the Harmonic Link," Ellira continued. "But because we're both Empaths—well, you're a Sensor, and I'm a Solar Reader—we're already edging toward Level Two without meaning to."
"That fast?" Naia asked.
Ellira gave an embarrassed shrug. "Emotions are… kind of our whole thing."
Naia almost smiled.
Ellira went on, her tone more serious this time. "At Level One, we can both choose to dissolve the link. No damage, no backlash. It's only when you reach Level Three that breaking it becomes dangerous. And Level Four…" She hesitated, glancing down. "That's the Soul-Union stage. After that, it's permanent."
"I see," Naia murmured.
Ellira lifted her gaze. "Level Four is what we consider… well, a true matrimony. A merging of souls." Her voice softened. "So until then, we're not actually married."
"Oh! That's—" Naia exhaled in relief. "Good to know."
And then she felt it.
A sting of hurt. Soft but sharp, like a pinprick to the heart—Ellira's heart, bleeding into hers.
Naia's eyes widened. "I didn't mean it like that. Come on—I'm too young to be married. I'm twenty-two!"
Ellira flushed, twisting her fingers nervously. "So am I," she whispered. Then, more quietly, "Do you… want to break the pact?"
"What? Hell no."
Naia said it before she could even think. The answer erupted from her chest like it had been waiting there all along. A warm pulse echoed through the link—Ellira's relief rushing into her like sunlight through a window. Naia's own breath stuttered at how intimate it felt.
"No," Naia repeated, softer this time. "Absolutely not."
She didn't know why this bond mattered so much. But it did. And the feeling—deep, instinctive, almost ancient—told her that letting it go would break something in her she didn't know how to live without.
The truth was that Naia, despite being an empath who could read emotions as easily as breathing, had spent most of her life without real bonds of her own. Growing up, her brother had been the only person she truly connected with—the only presence that felt safe, grounding, hers. Even within the prestigious Vasselheim household, where expectations hung heavier than affection, he had been her anchor. Beyond him, she'd managed only a single friend in school, a connection that had been taken from her.
People admired her talent, her brilliance, her precision. But they didn't approach her. Being labeled a genius had made her untouchable. And when she gave up the agent path—something everyone expected from a Vasselheim—and instead joined the Intelligence Division as an analyst, the distance only grew. New Boston was supposed to be a fresh start, a quieter life, a place where she could simply be.
Instead, it became a different kind of isolation. Her coworkers were polite, formal, even respectful—but never warm. The cheerful, approachable persona she adopted for the job didn't matter; people still kept her at arm's length. She could feel it every time she stepped into the office—slight withdrawals in the emotional field, the subtle tightening of shoulders. No space for her. No welcome.
And she stopped trying. For six years, she lived like that. Her brother had gone on deep-field assignments no one could talk about. Her mother was stationed mostly in the North American Federation's capital. Her father consumed by House affairs and political maneuvering.
One by one, her ties frayed. Until there was nothing left but routine and silence. She'd grown accustomed to the loneliness—worn it like a second skin, something familiar and expected. Which was why the sudden presence of Ellira… the connection, the warmth, the shared heartbeat—felt like stepping into sunlight after years in the cold.
And that loneliness was something Ellira understood perfectly. Just as Ellira had glimpsed Naia's memories during the forging of their link, Naia had seen hers—the fragments of a life lived among the Luminia aboard the great mothership. She had felt Ellira's childhood through her eyes: the soft glow of the corridors, the whispered judgments from other Luminians who saw her and Xerna as different, anomalies.
She had watched Xerna step between Ellira and every unspoken slight, every subtle exclusion. The elder sister—sharp, fierce, unyielding. The protector.
And Ellira, gentle to her core, who hurt when others hurt, who cried in secret so she wouldn't burden her sister, who learned to shrink herself so Xerna wouldn't have to fight the whole world alone.
Those memories lingered in Naia's chest now like echoes, coloring the room with emotions that weren't entirely her own. She looked around slowly—the obsidian dresser, the holo-frames of celebrities, the faint trace of floral perfume in the air, the sunflower-patterned bedding. A realization settled over her.
"This is… Xerna's room?" Naia asked.
Her voice was soft, almost reverent. As if speaking too loudly would disturb the weight of everything she now understood.
"Yes," Ellira said softly, her voice tinged with wistfulness. "I haven't been here… not since I was told about my sister's death."
Her gaze drifted across the room, as if the air itself still remembered Xerna's presence.
Naia's thoughts darkened. She remembered the woman who had kidnapped her—the same one who spoke passionately, almost tenderly, about coexistence, even if it meant burning the world to rebuild it. That woman had carried a conviction Naia couldn't fully hate, even when chained in her grasp. Now she realized that woman had been Xerna Solenne.
Naia swallowed hard, her chest tightening. She had never known the true weight of the world she lived in—the shadows that clung beneath the glittering towers of the UEF.
For most of her life, she had lived in wealth beyond measure—born into the upper echelons of the corporate dynasty, one of the rare 0.001 percent. Her path had always been clear: obey the law, uphold the Constitution her ancestors helped draft, and serve the Federation's shining ideal. She had believed in it. She had believed it was the truth.
Even six years after she'd left her House and joined the GSA as an Intelligence Analyst, she had still clung to those values—faith in the system, in order, in peace.
But that faith had started to fracture. After learning the truth of Project Heliospire, after seeing the cruelty masked by her civilization's perfection, and now—after seeing fragments of Xerna's soul—Naia could feel the cracks widening.
She exhaled slowly. "I saw your memories of her," she said at last. "She seemed like a wonderful big sister."
Ellira smiled faintly, though her eyes glistened. "She was."
Her voice took on a distant tone as the memory surfaced. "When we were little, the children of the Solenne tribe were required to attend ceremonial gatherings—bright halls full of singing and radiant light. Xerna and I always stood out. Our skin was… different. Pale human-like skin. We looked different."
Naia listened quietly as Ellira's aura dimmed, shimmering faintly with sadness.
"At first, the other children thought we were using glamor," Ellira continued. "When they realized that wasn't the case—that it was simply who we were—their tone changed. They grew distant. Whispered. Some laughed."
Her eyes softened. "I didn't notice it at first. Xerna made sure of that. She always stood in front of me, always smiled like it didn't matter, always caught the cruel words before they reached me. She carried all of it."
Naia felt the ache in her chest deepen—not her own, but Ellira's. The bond between them pulsed faintly, as their hearts mourned together.
"Even though we were both different," Ellira said, "Xerna was the truly unique one. We Luminia… we're pacifists by nature. We're taught to value harmony, empathy, and the light of peace above all else. But sometimes—rarely—there are anomalies among us."
Her gaze lifted, eyes burning faintly with pride. "Certain Luminia are born with combat instincts. Strengths that contradict our nature. Xerna was one of them."
Naia's breath caught.
"An anomaly," Ellira said softly. "A warrior born into a race of healers. And still…" Her voice trembled. "Still, she was the kindest soul I ever knew."
"I know," Naia whispered.
Ellira's golden eyes wavered, uncertainty clouding their light. "I… I don't understand. The Xerna I know would never kill anyone—never even raise her hand to harm a soul." Her voice cracked. "Killing Malcolm… wanting to start a war… why would she go that far? What could drive her to that?"
Naia's reply came quietly, but her tone carried a firm, grounding warmth. "It doesn't matter what she's done. What matters is that we save her."
Ellira blinked, startled. Her lips parted as if to question, but no words came. "Save her?" she echoed, as if the concept itself hurt to believe.
Tears welled in her eyes—fragile, shimmering against her lashes. She blinked them back, but Naia could feel the effort, the ache.
Naia's chest tightened, their shared link pulsing softly with mirrored emotion. "I can feel it," she said. "She's hurting. Deeply. Whatever happened to her… it wasn't just about Project Heliospire. Something broke her, El. Something I can't name."
Ellira looked down, trembling, and Naia took a small step closer.
"I want to save her," Naia continued. "Not just for you—but for me, too. Maybe that's selfish. But seeing someone with your face, your warmth, carrying that much pain…" She swallowed hard. "I can't stand it."
One of Ellira's tears escaped before she could stop it. She rubbed it away with her thumb, but Naia's hand was already there—fingers brushing hers, warm and luminous. Ellira hesitated, then let her hand fall, and Naia cupped her cheek instead. Their eyes met, and for a long, suspended moment neither spoke.
"Thank you," Ellira whispered, her voice fragile as starlight.
She leaned forward until her forehead brushed Naia's shoulder. The soft contact made Naia's breath hitch. A faint shimmer of golden light bloomed around them—their light, the manifestation of their shared resonance. It pulsed with every beat of their hearts, rising and falling in gentle waves that filled the quiet room with warmth.
The air felt alive. Grief, compassion, relief—all of it merged into something new, something neither of them could name. The boundary between their feelings blurred until it was impossible to tell where one ended and the other began.
Naia lifted her gaze, drawn to the soft glow tracing across Ellira's skin. The spiral markings along her cheekbones shimmered faintly, like a living constellation. There was such symmetry in her features—graceful, radiant, real—that Naia found herself staring before she realized it.
Their faces were close. Too close. Ellira's breath brushed against her lips, warm and trembling. Naia didn't move away. Her pulse thrummed in her throat, every heartbeat echoing through the link they shared.
She tilted her head slightly—just enough for their eyes to meet one last time. And then Ellira, almost without thinking, closed the distance. Their lips met—softly, uncertainly, yet with an intensity that silenced the world around them. For a moment, time stilled. The golden light around them surged, folding into a radiant halo as their Lumenis fields intertwined completely.
Their hearts beat in perfect sync. And as the glow slowly faded, the warmth remained—steady, quiet, and impossibly deep.
The kiss deepened—slowly, carefully—as though both were afraid that breathing too loudly might shatter the fragile moment between them. Their linked resonance pulsed softly in the air, wrapping them in a golden shimmer that flickered like candlelight.
Then a low hum broke through the stillness.
At first, neither moved, the sound almost blending with the quiet thrum of their heartbeat. But when it came again—a soft, mechanical vibration that echoed faintly through the walls—they both startled, pulling apart.
Naia blinked, eyes wide. Ellira's face was flushed, her breath uneven, and for a long second, the two simply stared at each other—stunned, unsure what to say.
Ellira was the first to look away, brushing her fingers nervously over her braid. She had heard stories of how the Symphoria Link could draw souls closer, but she had never imagined what it would feel like—how overwhelming, how intimate it truly was.
The hum came again.
Naia cleared her throat, trying to steady herself. "What's that sound?" she asked, though her voice still carried a tremor.
"Oh!" Ellira stammered, recovering slightly. "That—um—someone's at the front door."
She turned quickly, almost too quickly, her golden braid swaying behind her as she headed for the exit. Naia followed a few steps behind, grateful for the distraction and still reeling from the memory of Ellira's lips against hers.
They stepped into the main hallway—a long corridor bathed in soft white light that reflected off the crystalline panels lining the walls. The faint hum of Luminian architecture followed them down the staircase, every step amplifying the nervous silence between them.
At the base of the stairs, they found Julia standing by the residence entrance, her expression calm but watchful. The hard-light door shimmered faintly, and beyond its translucent field stood two visitors.
Marienne Veyra and Neru Veyra.
Naia recognized the diplomat immediately. But what caught her off guard was Marienne's form—she had shed her glamor entirely. Her natural Luminian body was radiant and translucent, veins of light tracing elegant patterns beneath her crystalline skin. The sight was breathtaking… and alien. Naia had grown used to Luminians appearing human; seeing their true form so close felt like stepping into another reality.
She masked her surprise behind a polite nod, though her heart raced with curiosity.
"They're awake, it seems," Marienne said, her voice soft and melodic, resonating faintly in the air as if it carried its own echo.
"Thank Lumethra," Neru added, relief flickering across her luminous features. "I thought you two would be asleep for much longer."
"Wait…" Naia blinked, glancing between them. "How long was I out?"
"We were in a coma for a week," Ellira said quietly, a faint blush still lingering on her cheeks.
Marienne inclined her head. "Luckily, the Symphoria Link completion was smooth. I've already spoken to the guards who were at the hospital, and they've sworn a vow of silence. None of them will report the Link to the Concord."
Naia frowned slightly. "Wait—why? Is the Symphoria Link… bad? I thought it was part of your culture."
Julia stepped forward, her presence filling the space with quiet authority. "A Symphoria Link between two Luminians is sacred," she said, her tone steady but grave. "But between a Luminian and a human…"
Her gaze shifted to her daughter. The weight behind her eyes said everything words could not.
"…It's not something our people will tolerate," Julia finished softly. "Even if it happened by accident."
The light in the room dimmed slightly as her words sank in, and Naia felt through the bond that tied them the small tremor of fear that passed through Ellira's heart.
"So what brings you here, Marienne?" Julia asked. Her tone was polite, but her fingers—folded neatly in front of her—tightened ever so slightly.
Marienne's luminous form flickered, her crystalline veins pulsing once before she answered. "News just reached the Concord," she said evenly. "The Unveiled Choir has broken into one of the GSA facilities in New Boston."
The words hit like a shockwave.
"What?" Naia and Ellira said in unison, their voices overlapping.
Marienne's translucent eyes turned toward Naia. "It seems the breach happened during the same period you were taken, Naia Vasselheim."
Naia's heartbeat quickened. "Was anything taken?"
Marienne hesitated, her light dimming slightly. "We're not sure. GSA's keeping it quiet—completely off the public record. The city's still reeling from the lockdown being lifted. The UEF wants calm, not panic."
Julia's jaw tensed. "And the Gem Treaty?" she asked, her voice sharp enough to cut through the tension. "Surely, they'll postpone after everything that's happened?"
Marienne shook her head. "No. The UEF is moving forward. The signing is set for this weekend, at the Hall of Radiance."
Naia's breath caught. After everything—Malcolm's death, the chaos, the lies—they were still going through with it. The realization sank heavily in her chest. The treaty wasn't just politics anymore; it was survival—for both races.
Before the room could grow heavier, Neru stepped forward, her smile bright but deliberate. She slipped an arm around both Naia and Ellira, gently steering them away. "All right, that's enough politics for now," she said. "I'm stealing the girls. You adults can keep the heavy talk."
Marienne gave her niece a look. "We won't be long, Neru."
"Sure, sure," Neru said breezily, already guiding Naia and Ellira toward the staircase.
The three ascended together, their footsteps soft against the polished glass flooring. Naia glanced at Ellira, still feeling the faint resonance of their link thrumming quietly between them.
When they entered Ellira's room, Naia slowed. It was smaller than Xerna's—warmer, gentler. The light here glowed a soft gold, the air faintly scented with floral luminescence. Stuffed animals—dozens of them—lined the bed and shelves, some slumped over, others perfectly posed.
"I haven't been here in ages," Neru said, flopping onto the bed with a grin. Her human form shimmered into place—soft skin replacing crystalline light.
Naia watched her with a mix of curiosity and something else—something small and sharp that curled beneath her ribs. Jealousy, though she refused to name it.
Neru's gaze flicked between the two younger women. Her eyes narrowed slightly, as though sensing something in the air—a shift, an undertone. The Symphoria Link was obvious to anyone who could read resonance.
"Remember when we used to sneak in here?" she said to Ellira, smiling. "We'd hide from your tutors, build forts out of your blankets. You used to keep those sun-crystals under your pillow."
Ellira cleared her throat quickly, sweeping aside a few plush toys as her cheeks turned pink. "That was… a long time ago."
"Mm, true," Neru said, her smile widening. She turned to Naia, eyes glancing over her fully restored arm. "Looks like you made quite the recovery."
Naia flexed her fingers unconsciously. "Guess so."
But before the silence could stretch, Neru's expression shifted—sharp and knowing. "Anyway, that's not what I brought you here for." She leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "I finally figured out why the Unveiled Choir went after Elias's LumenPad—and why they came for you, Naia. It's all connected to the GSA break-in."
Naia's focus sharpened instantly. "Really?"
Neru nodded. "It's your blood," she said. "Specifically, the bio-resonance key encoded in your Vasselheim lineage. They needed it to access whatever they stole."
Naia's brow furrowed. "My… blood? Why would they need that?"
"You might not have noticed," Neru said, "but they took samples while you were unconscious."
Ellira's aura flickered faintly, betraying concern.
Neru continued, voice lowering. "The device they stole from Elias wasn't just a GSA communicator—it was a device embedded with high-level authorization codes. Most people wouldn't even recognize what it was."
She looked at Naia with something between admiration and disbelief. "Your brother's higher up the GSA chain than most realize. I thought he was just a field agent."
Naia shook her head. "He's no ordinary agent. Elias wields the Saber of Conviction—a relic Gem passed through my family for generations. That alone grants him special clearance inside the corporate hierarchy. When he joined GSA, that authority carried over."
Ellira's golden eyes widened. "Special clearance?"
"More than that," Neru said. "He's one of the few with direct access to restricted vaults inside GSA's containment sector. If the Choir wanted to breach those vaults…" She looked between them, expression grave.
"They'd need your blood, Naia—and your brother's device—to open the door."
The room fell silent. The hum of the lights filled the space where words couldn't.
"Why my blood?" Naia asked. Her tone was quiet, but there was an edge beneath it—an unease she couldn't quite hide.
Ellira leaned forward, frowning. "Yes… Why Naia's blood? Why not Elias's?"
Neru crossed her arms, her expression tightening. "Because they couldn't get it from him," she said simply. "Your brother's too powerful. Too much stress for them. Taking his blood would've been impossible without going all out against him. So they went for the next best thing."
Naia's stomach turned. "And what exactly did they need my bio-key for?"
"To unlock the authorization code embedded in the device they stole," Neru said. "Your blood carries a resonance signature that mirrors Elias's—enough to bypass the gene-lock on his LumenPad."
Ellira's eyes darkened as she pieced it together. "But why would Xerna want access to a GSA facility in the first place?"
Neru exhaled, the sound sharp and heavy. "Most likely? To reach one of the containment vaults—and whatever Gem they've got locked inside. Something powerful enough to justify all of this."
Ellira's voice dropped. "Their next move."
Naia met her gaze. "What is it?"
Neru's silence stretched just a little too long. When she finally spoke, her voice had lost all of its usual brightness.
"That," she said, "is what we need to find out—before they make it."