I didn't expect to wake again so soon.
One moment, the warmth of Lira's hand lulled me deeper into sleep, the steady pressure of Seris leaning against my side grounding me more than any healing charm ever could.
The next, a soft but firm knock struck the infirmary door.
Footsteps.
Dareth.
I didn't need the bond to know both Lira and Seris stiffened before I even opened my eyes.
"Arin Vale," Dareth said quietly from the doorway. "We need to speak."
Lira shot upright immediately. "He shouldn't be moved."
Seris planted herself between the bed and the door. "And he's not going anywhere alone."
Dareth paused.
His gaze flicked from Lira's trembling hands… to Seris's protective stance… to the lingering exhaustion still pulling at my own breathing.
"I'm not here to separate you," he said finally. "All three of you should hear this."
That sentence alone told me whatever he had to say was important.
Dangerous, even.
Lira reached for my hand. Seris gripped the railing of the bed. And together, we followed Dareth out of the infirmary and into one of the academy's inner chambers — a room usually reserved for high-ranking mages and sealed discussions.
A place for truth the academy didn't want echoing in the halls.
When the doors closed behind us, Dareth turned.
His expression was unreadable.
But his tone was not.
"Arin," he said, "you asked how the entity recognized you."
My throat tightened.
Seris folded her arms. "Yes, he asked. And you stalled."
Lira stepped closer to me. "Please… just tell us."
Dareth studied me for a long, heavy moment.
Then he spoke the words that made the room feel too small.
"The entity didn't recognize your face, Arin."
He paused.
"It recognized your signature."
I frowned. "My… resonance?"
"No," Dareth said. "Something beneath that."
He pressed his hand to the warded table at the room's center. Light bloomed, forming a shifting diagram — concentric rings, each with its own frequency.
Resonance patterns.
Mine, Lira's, Seris's.
And something else.
A fourth pattern—
faint, fractured—
but unmistakably intertwined with mine.
Lira inhaled sharply. Seris swore under her breath.
"What is that?" I whispered.
Dareth answered quietly.
"A forgotten anchor."
My pulse stumbled.
"Anchor to what?"
Dareth looked straight into my eyes.
"To an earlier bond."
The air thinned.
Lira's fingers sought mine instinctively.
Seris stepped closer to my side.
I felt something inside me tilt.
"I don't… remember any bond before this one," I said. "I would have known."
"Not if it was severed before you were old enough to retain the memory," Dareth replied.
Lira's voice trembled. "Severed… how?"
Dareth's jaw tightened. "Forcefully. And by something with power beyond anything the academy has recorded."
My skin crawled.
Seris's grip on my shoulder hardened. "Are you saying this creature— the one outside our wards — was bonded to him?"
"No," Dareth said. "But it was connected to the one who was."
Silence crashed over us.
I stared at the diagram.
At the faint, cracked frequency threaded through mine like an old scar.
Someone had been bonded to me.
Before Lira.
Before Seris.
Before I could even speak.
A piece of that connection still lived inside me.
Incomplete.
Broken.
Unclaimed.
And the entity…
recognized it.
Lira's breath hitched. "Arin… are you okay?"
I forced my voice to steady. "Who were they? The one who… bonded to me?"
Dareth hesitated.
Not because he didn't know.
But because he wasn't sure he should tell me.
"You were an infant," he said finally. "Your parents brought you to the Academy for evaluation. The day after, the entity attacked. It was the first breach in recorded history."
My heartbeat stuttered.
"The only recorded target," Dareth added, "was you."
Seris went pale.
Lira's hand tightened around mine as if anchoring me to the floor.
"What happened to the other bond?" I whispered.
Dareth lowered his gaze.
"We never found them."
I felt something inside my chest pull tight — not pain, not grief, but a sharp, hollow ache that felt older than I was.
Lira stepped closer, her forehead brushing lightly against my temple.
"You don't have to carry this alone," she whispered.
Seris rested her hand over my heartbeat.
"And you don't need that missing piece to be whole. You have us."
Their voices steadied me more than any spell could.
Dareth watched silently — not unkindly, not distant. Just thoughtful.
"The entity recognized your fractured signature," he said. "That's why it spoke your name. It believes the missing bond is the key to restoring itself."
Lira shuddered. "And it wants Arin to complete it…"
"To reclaim what it lost," Dareth finished.
A cold shiver ran down my spine.
The entity wasn't hunting the academy.
It was hunting its past.
A past tied to me.
Seris exhaled slowly, her anger shifting into something sharper. "So what now?"
Dareth met her gaze.
"Now," he said, "you prepare."
His eyes moved to all three of us.
"Because the entity will return. And next time, it won't test the wards."
He looked directly at me.
"It will call your name again, Arin Vale."
The room felt colder.
But Lira's hand held mine.
Seris's arm brushed my shoulder.
And the bond pulsed — warm, steady, defiant.
Whatever hunted my past…
would have to go through my present.
And my present stood right beside me.
As we stepped out of the Council chamber, the corridors felt different—too narrow, too bright, too filled with echoes of a life I suddenly wasn't sure belonged to me. The knowledge that a bond existed before Lira and Seris… a bond torn away violently enough to scar my resonance… it pressed against my ribs like a bruise. Every footstep felt heavier, as if I were walking through the remnants of someone else's past.
And yet, with each unsteady breath, the hands on my arms reminded me the past wasn't all I had. I had them. Now. Here.
Lira walked on my right, silent but close enough that her shoulder brushed mine with every few steps—small, grounding touches that made my pulse steady. Her gaze flicked to me often, full of questions she didn't want to overwhelm me with. Seris walked on my left, not saying a single word, but her posture radiated fury—not at me, but for me. For the child I once was.
For the bond that had been severed. For the entity that dared to claim it still had a right to me. Between them, I felt less like I was drowning in revelations and more like I was being carried through them.
When we reached the empty training hall, the silence swallowed us whole. Seris finally turned, grabbing the front of my shirt—not harsh, but desperate—and pressed her forehead to mine. "Listen," she said, voice shaking despite her attempt to sound steady. "I don't care what was taken from you. I don't care what that thing thinks it remembers. You're not incomplete. Not now. Not with us."
Lira stood behind me, her hand sliding down my arm until it found mine and held it firmly, her warmth a wordless promise: You're whole. You're here. You're ours, in every way that matters.
The bond pulsed in response—three heartbeats syncing for a long, quiet moment. It didn't erase the fear. It didn't change the truth. But it softened the edges. Made the weight bearable. Somewhere in the distance, the wards hummed, a low warning that the entity had not left the world—it had only retreated, waiting, watching. But this time, the thought didn't hollow me out. It lit something instead—small but fierce.
Because if the entity wished to claim the part of me that had been taken, it would find that the space it sought had already been filled. Not by a ghost of the past, but by two lives woven tightly into mine.