I didn't remember falling asleep.
One moment I was awake between them, their warmth pressed against my sides, their breaths syncing with mine. The next… I was somewhere else entirely.
But it didn't feel like a dream.
Dreams are fog and fragments. This felt full. Present. Like the world had followed us instead of the other way around.
At first, everything was darkness. Not cold. Just… still.
Then a soft glow spread beneath us, like starlight forming ground, and suddenly, shapes emerged from shadow—slowly, delicately—like reality being drawn by hand.
I felt Lira's hand slip into mine before I even turned.
Seris took my other.
We hadn't woken into the dream separately. We arrived together.
Lira whispered, voice echoing strangely, "Are we… dreaming at the same time?"
Seris looked around, wary but calm. "Shared consciousness. It can happen with deep bonds."
"Not this clean," I murmured.
Everything around us shimmered—soft blues and warm golds like dawn trying to exist inside night.
The fracture pulsed once inside me, and the dream responded, colors deepening, shapes steadying.
"It brought us here," I breathed.
Seris squeezed my hand. "Fine. Then it deals with all of us."
Lira stepped closer, eyes wide with quiet awe. "I don't think it wants to harm us."
I swallowed. "Then what does it want?"
We turned slowly, waiting—listening.
And then it happened.
Behind us, a soft pulse of light appeared, not like a figure, not like a monster, just a shape, slowly forming from starlight—
small, warm, almost timid.
Not frightening. Not angry.
Lonely.
Lira gasped softly. "It's… beautiful."
Seris breathed, not in fear, but in disbelief. "It's a child."
The shape pulsed—like a heartbeat trying to exist without a body.
And inside me, I felt something impossible:
a tiny echo of fear, a tiny echo of hope, a tiny echo of need—
not mine.
Lira's voice trembled. "It's scared."
Seris whispered—voice fierce and suddenly maternal, "Then it came to the right people."
I stared at the glowing shape—small and fragile as a held breath—
and for the first time since all of this started…
I wasn't afraid of it.
I was afraid for it.
The shape steadied, light swirling like a tiny galaxy caught inside a tear-drop. It hovered just above the ground, faint pulses trembling outward like ripples on still water.
Lira stepped forward carefully, not touching—just lowering herself so she was eye-level with the presence.
"Hello," she whispered.
Her voice didn't echo. It resonated.
The shape pulsed—once.
A tiny flicker, shy and uncertain.
Seris stayed close behind me, but she didn't raise walls. She didn't posture. She didn't guard herself from it. Her voice, when it came, was surprisingly soft.
"You don't have to hide from us."
The glow flickered again—warmer this time.
I took a breath and spoke gently, "Did you bring us here?"
The light dimmed briefly—like it nodded, like it was trying.
Lira's eyes softened. "You wanted us together."
The glow steadied.
Not bright.
Not urgent.
Just… relieved.
Seris murmured under her breath, "It really is like a child…"
The presence trembled—the faintest pulse of sadness, sharp enough to feel in my chest.
Not fear. Not anger.
Loneliness.
Lira gasped softly. "It never had anyone."
Seris swallowed hard. "Of course it didn't. It was trapped inside darkness for gods know how long."
I stepped toward the light, slowly. "You're safe now."
For the first time, the glow moved toward us—not threatening, not grabbing—just drifting, as if drawn by warmth.
It hovered right in front of my chest—over the fracture—and pulsed weakly.
I reached out.
It didn't flinch.
The small light touched my palm—no heat, no sound—just a gentle pulse, like a heartbeat that didn't know how to belong yet.
My own chest pulsed in answer—through the fracture, through me.
Then something impossible happened—
the pulse didn't come back just to me.
Lira jerked softly. Seris gasped.
They felt it too.
Lira put a shaking hand over her heart. "It's sharing with us."
Seris steadied her breathing, voice trembling. "It's… letting us feel it."
Sadness.
Fear.
Hope.
Loneliness.
Like pieces of memory without shape or time.
But beneath all of it—
a desperate desire to be held.
I stepped closer, voice shaking. "You're not alone anymore."
The light pulsed sharp—like surprise.
Then softer—like wonder.
Seris whispered, voice raw and protective, "We won't let anything hurt you."
Lira smiled through tears. "Or take you away."
The light trembled.
Then— slowly— it pressed itself against my chest,
merging with the fracture, melting into warmth, like sinking into a heartbeat it had never known before.
I inhaled sharply.
Lira grabbed my hand. Seris held my shoulder.
And suddenly— we all felt it.
Not the fracture. Not the entity.
A tiny emotion forming for the first time: trust.
Lira's breath caught. "Arin… it's trusting us."
Seris swallowed, voice breaking—
"Then gods help anything that tries to break that."
The dream shimmered— colors fading like dawn in reverse—
and the child-light whispered one final pulse into our hearts:
thank you.
The dream dissolved.
But that feeling stayed.
Inside all three of us.
I woke like someone pulling slowly out of warm water—not startled, not dragged, just rising gently from the dream into morning light.
But even before I opened my eyes, I felt Seris shift against me, arm tightening around my waist in a way that didn't feel protective of me, but protective of something inside me.
Lira's hand rested over my heart, like she was shielding the fracture physically even in sleep.
And my chest— the presence inside—felt quieter than ever.
Not silent. Just… safe.
Lira blinked awake slowly, eyes finding mine instantly. "Arin? Are you okay?"
I nodded. "Yes."
Seris opened one eye, voice still sleepy but fierce. "If anything tried to hurt you—"
"It didn't," I said gently. "It needed us."
Seris pushed herself upright, expression serious now. "Then we protect it."
Lira sat up too, anxiety rising. "Halin won't like that."
"I don't care what Halin likes," Seris snapped, then softened her tone when she saw my expression. "I care about what's ours."
Lira glanced down at my chest, voice trembling. "It came looking for comfort."
"And we gave it comfort," I whispered.
Seris nodded once, determination already building like a shield forming. "Then that's what we keep doing."
I swallowed, overwhelmed. "Why?"
Seris stared at me, eyes fierce. "Because something that small and scared doesn't get abandoned. Not if it chose us. Not after everything."
Lira touched my cheek gently. "It trusted us first."
Seris leaned forward, voice quiet but devastatingly sincere—
"And now we choose it back."
A warmth pulsed softly in my chest—
frightened, but hopeful.
Small, but present.
Lira felt it too—her eyes widened, breath catching. "It heard us."
Seris nodded, jaw set. "Good. Let it know we mean it."
Then she took my hand deliberately— and reached her other hand toward Lira.
Lira took it—without hesitation this time.
And all three of us sat there, hands locked, hearts open, letting the presence feel what choice really meant.
Not fate. Not destiny. Not magic.
Choice.
Seris whispered like a promise—
"We protect you."
Lira added, gentle and fierce all at once—
"We stay."
The fracture pulsed—
I choose you too.
Not in words— in feeling.
And for the first time, that didn't terrify me.
It healed something I never knew was breaking.