When night finally came, I expected fear. Or tension. Or the dream waiting for me again.
Instead… there was only quiet.
Not silence. Quiet.
Like something had settled inside my bones.
Seris took the left side of the bed again—like habit, like instinct. Lira curled into my right, tucking her head beneath my shoulder with a sigh so content it almost rewired my heartbeat.
I didn't sleep immediately.
Not because of fear this time—
but because something inside the fracture was moving.
Not outward. Inward.
Like a tide shifting beneath skin, touching places emotion lived, not thought.
It pulsed gently against my ribs—
not demanding,
not calling me away—
but reaching.
Soft, curious.
Seris noticed before I spoke. "It's active again."
Lira's eyes opened slowly against my shoulder. "Does it hurt?"
I shook my head. "No. It… feels."
"Feels what?" Seris whispered.
Words didn't exist—but a sensation did. Warm. Slow. Almost human.
"…content," I breathed.
Lira blinked, startled. "Like… emotionally?"
"Yes."
Seris leaned closer, voice barely audible. "Because we're here?"
I didn't answer immediately.
Because in my chest, the fracture answered for me—
pulsing warm and slow when I tightened my arms around them both.
Something inside me—inside us—shifted deeper, like a door opening inward instead of outward.
I whispered, barely breathing:
"I think it's learning love."
Lira's breath caught. Seris froze.
Then—without warning—the fracture pulsed again, but this time it flowed outward—
a tiny spark of warmth across both sides, touching Lira first, then Seris.
Both gasped softly.
Seris grabbed my hand. "Arin—"
"It reached," Lira breathed.
Not into me. Into them.
My voice shook, "It's sharing feeling."
Seris whispered, fierce and soft at the same time:
"Then it belongs with us."
Lira pressed closer, as if the warmth was calling her instead of taking anything away.
"It's becoming part of us," she whispered.
"No," I said softly.
"It feels like we're becoming part of each other."
The bond hummed— real, alive, awake.
And inside all three of our hearts, the same warmth answered—
not fear, not power, not magic—
belonging.
For a long heartbeat, we didn't move.
Lira's lashes fluttered against my shoulder, her breath catching like she wasn't sure she'd imagined the warmth. Seris didn't gasp or panic—she froze like a warrior feeling an enemy's presence, only this time, the presence didn't threaten. It held.
Lira whispered, barely audible, "I felt you."
I blinked. "What do you mean?"
"I felt your feeling," she said, voice trembling. "Not the fracture. You."
Seris swallowed hard. "Me too."
A warmth spread through my stomach, not physical—emotional. "So it wasn't just me sharing the fracture—"
"It was the fracture sharing you," Seris finished.
None of us spoke for a moment.
Then Lira lifted her head just enough to look at my face. "Arin… does that mean we're inside it, too?"
I inhaled slowly. "Maybe it isn't inside me anymore. Maybe it's inside… us."
Seris brushed her fingers along my jaw—not dramatically, not roughly—for once it was gentle, careful, terrified to break something fragile.
"So if it feels love…" she whispered, "it feels all three of us loving."
My chest tightened painfully.
Lira leaned in, her voice small. "Then it knows we love you."
"No," Seris said, eyes locked on mine, voice fierce even in softness. "It knows we love each other."
Lira turned crimson, but didn't pull away.
A soft pulse spread across my chest, warm and slow, as if the fracture understood her words—and agreed.
Seris blinked, stunned. "It reacted…"
Lira whispered, "It listened."
My throat tightened. "It learns from what we feel."
Seris let out a slow, shaky breath. "Then we give it the right things to learn."
I exhaled against her shoulder. "Love."
Lira pressed a tiny kiss to my jaw—gentle, soft, a promise instead of a question. "And safety."
Seris placed her forehead to mine. "And belonging."
Somewhere inside, the presence pulsed again— warmth spreading to all three of us, equal, soft, real—
like a heartbeat we suddenly shared.
None of us loosened our grip.
We didn't try to sleep.
We just stayed close—limbs tangled, breaths slow, hearts pressed together like something inside us couldn't stand the distance anymore.
Lira shifted first.
Not away—closer.
She tucked her leg gently against mine, head resting under my chin like she was afraid to let go even in her dreams.
Seris wrapped an arm around both of us, protective even in rest, her forehead near mine, breath brushing my cheek every time she exhaled.
There were no words to narrate the moment. There didn't need to be.
Because the fracture spoke instead—without language, without thought—just a warm pulse deep in my chest, answering the closeness with something almost like…
relief.
As if this was what it had been needing all along.
Lira whispered sleepily, voice muffled against my collarbone. "I don't feel alone anymore."
Seris pressed closer, voice low and raw. "That's the point."
I held them tighter. "I don't either."
And then something impossible happened:
the warmth in my chest spread outward—
not sharply, not magically, just gently—
like a sigh exhaled through every part of me…
and both girls reacted at once.
Lira inhaled like she was breathing in sunlight. Seris's shoulders relaxed into the mattress completely.
"It's comforting us," Lira murmured.
"No," Seris whispered, voice breaking in a way she couldn't hide—
"it's comforting you… and we're feeling it through you."
I swallowed hard.
Not fear.
Not pain.
Not magic.
Comfort.
Something inside me loosened—like a fist unclenching after years of holding tight.
Lira pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder, so gentle it felt like a promise.
Seris slid her fingers through my hair, careful and steady—like she'd learned softness just for moments like this.
The fracture pulsed again, slow warm peaceful.
Like it was finally home.
And with both of them held against me, wrapped in warmth and quiet breaths, I realized something that didn't scare me anymore—
We belonged to each other now.
Not by magic. Not by fate. Not by history.
But by choice.
And nothing—not dreams, not nightmares, not ancient magic—could take that away.
Much later—after the warmth settled, after the fear faded into something softer—I found myself staring at the dark ceiling while they slept against me.
Lira breathing slow and steady on my right side.
Seris holding us from the left, arm draped across my waist like instinct.
For the first time, I didn't feel caught between them. I felt held by them.
And the fracture…
felt held too.
I swallowed, emotion building so slowly it didn't hurt—just filled.
Somewhere inside, the presence shifted again—like a sleeping thought turning over. Not waking, not calling, just noticing.
Like it understood that the warmth wasn't magic.
It was belonging.
And my heart ached so much I didn't know where to place the feeling.
I thought losing myself meant disappearing. Becoming something else. Becoming someone I wouldn't recognize.
But now—with Lira's fingers curled gently in my shirt, and Seris's steady heartbeat pressed against my back—I realized something different:
I wasn't disappearing.
I was expanding.
Becoming more than one scared boy with something broken inside him. Becoming someone who had hands to hold onto now, voices to anchor him, warmth to come back to.
Maybe the fracture wasn't replacing me. Maybe it was learning me. Choosing me.
Because I had been chosen too.
And that realization didn't terrify me anymore.
It comforted me.
I looked down at them—two people who shouldn't have been mine, who somehow chose me anyway—and I whispered a truth so quiet the night almost swallowed it:
"Thank you."
The fracture pulsed once in answer. Soft. Warm. Almost like a reply.
Seris stirred against my neck, voice barely awake. "Still here."
Lira hummed sleepily, fingers tightening at the edge of my shirt. "Always."
And I closed my eyes…
not because I was tired, but because for the first time in my life…
I wanted to stay.