"Run!"
Caelum's shout barely cut through the shriek that rose behind them.
The sirens burst from the fog, skeletal wings slicing the air as their mouths opened—not to sing, but to scream. The sound was wrong. It clawed at the ears, sharp and vibrating, like glass grinding against bone.
Aelion stumbled as they sprinted. "Aren't sirens supposed to be pretty?" he yelled, panic threading his voice. "You know —stunning, singing, tails, and underwater?!"
Nyxar did not slow. His jaw was clenched, eyes dark as he glanced back. "Those are actually lies," he said. "These are the original. Biblically accurate. They do sing… Just not now." He grimaced as another shriek tore through the air. "People twisted their nature into something softer. Censored in a way."
"I'd love to continue this history lesson. But um, watch out!"
The air warped.
A sonic blast ripped toward them, visible now— waves of compressed sound tearing through the ground. Instinct took over. They scattered, leaping into different directions just as the blast struck where they had been standing, cracking stone and sending debris flying.
They rolled their feet— too far apart.
That's when the voices came. Not from the air, but from the inside.
Do not separate.
The words echoed through their minds, layered and ancient, pressing down on their thoughts.
Distance makes you vulnerable.
Aelion clutched his head. "It's the voices," he shouted across the clearing. "The ones from our dreams!"
For as long as they could remember, the brothers had shared those dreams. Endless darkness. A presence. Words that never fully made sense— until now.
Nyxar's breath hitched as another scream sounded closer. "But what do they mean?" he called back. "What does staying close actually do?"
Caelum looked between his brothers, something clicking into place. His pulse thundered, but his voice steadied. "I don't know," he admitted. "But they've never warned us without a reason." He took a step toward them. "Maybe together, we can fight back."
Aelion swallowed hard, then gave a shaky, almost hysterical laugh. "Okay, this is going to sound crazy. Insane even," he said, extending a hand. "But… What if we literally stayed together?"
Nyxar stared at the outstretched hand. Then at Caelum.
The sirens screamed again—closer this time.
"… What if we like joined hands?" Aelion said, seriously this time.
"I don't agree with this," Caelum said, staring at Aelion's outstretched hand. His fingers trembled. "But… something's pushing me to do it. Like it's already decided."
Nyxar let out a breathless laugh, hollow and sharp. "You know what?" he said. "We're seconds away from being torn apart by nightmare birds." He stepped closer. "Might as well find out what happens."
Caelum nodded once. "Agreed."
They joined hands.
The moment their skin touched, the world answered.
A surge of power exploded through their veins— hot, electric, ancient. It rushed through them like lightning searching for a path, binding them together. Aelion gasped as his heart slammed against his ribs, not in fear, but recognition.
Their eyes ignited—golden light pouring from their pupils, spilling into the air like molten fire. The ground beneath them cracked as they slowly lifted off, weightless, suspended between breath and destiny.
Behind them, three golden objects materialized, radiant and precise.
A spinner, turning endlessly, its motion hypnotic—time folding in on itself. A ruler, perfectly straight, etched with symbols older than language—measure, order, fate. And a pair of scissors, sharp and gleaming-poised to cut what should no longer be.
The sirens shrieked, their harmony breaking. For the first time, hesitation flickered across their twisted faces.
Then, as if sharing one mind, they screamed in unison and charged.
The air screamed with them.
A massive sonic blast surged forward—violent, unstoppable.
And then, everything stopped.
The sirens froze mid-scream. The blast hung in the air like shattered glass. Dust, debris, even the wind itself stood perfectly still.
Silence.
Absolute. Eternal.
The world had been paused.
And at the center of it all, the triplets hovered—glowing, connected, and finally understanding that whatever they were becoming…
There was no coming back.
*Earlier that week*
"Aelion, you know I don't have all day!" Caelum shouted, glancing at the clock as he realized Aelion was still taking his sweet time getting ready for work.
"Calm down, bro," Aelion said easily as he came down the stairs, utterly unbothered.
Caelum scoffed. He was definitely having it.
"I honestly don't know what's up with you," he said. "You're so unpredictable. This is literally your fifth job this year. Why?"
Aelion grabbed a glass and poured himself some pomegranate juice, unfazed. "Well, brother," he said with a shrug, "working is fun and all—until it starts to feel like child's play."
Caelum rolled his eyes and waved a hand at him. "Just be quick."
Heavy footsteps followed, and Nyxar appeared at the top of the stairs, dark circles bruising the skin beneath his eyes. His hair was a mess, like sleep had lost the fight.
"What time are you two leaving?" Nyxar muttered, rubbing his eyes. "I need the house empty so I can sleep in peace."
"Someone's grumpy today," Aelion said, finishing his drink.
"When is he not grumpy?" Caelum replied, glancing at Nyxar. "I still don't get why you choose to work at night."
Nyxar shot them an annoyed look. "I still don't get how you don't know this by now," he said. "We're triplets. I've always been a night owl. And no, it's definitely not insomnia."
Caelum and Aelion look at each other and shrug. "Whatever you say, night owl," Aelion said. "Anyways, see you later."
"Sweet dreams, Nyxar!" Caelum exclaimed as he was getting out. Nyxar closed his eyes—taking in the silence. He then went upstairs to his room.
AELION'S POV
"So, what time should I pick you up?"
Caelum asked as we pulled up in front of the bakery.
Yeah, I know—a bakery isn't exactly what people expect from me. But I've always liked baking. There's something grounding about it. And honestly, I've always wondered what it'd be like to work in one.
"You can pick me up at 4:30," I said, checking the time on my phone.
"Okay," he replied, a hint of relief slipping into his voice. "I'll see you then."
And just like that, he drove off before I could even say goodbye.
I watched the car disappear down the street and sighed.
Oh well. Nothing new.
After being shown what to do, I got to work.
I actually enjoyed the simplicity of it—measuring, mixing, following steps that didn't ask too much of me.
Still, I knew how this always went.
Sooner or later, something in me would lose interest, and I'd start looking for something else. Something new.
It had always been like that. I have three degrees—three—and I'd genuinely enjoyed studying every one of them.
As I slid a tray of cupcakes into the oven, pain exploded behind my eyes.
A migraine hit me without warning, sharp and blinding. My knees gave out before I could react, and the world tilted as I collapsed to the floor.
Darkness swallowed me.
When I opened my eyes again, I wasn't in the bakery.
I was somewhere dark—empty—but I wasn't alone.
Nyxar was there.
So was Caelum.
A tight knot formed in my chest.
"Um… where are we?" I asked..
But even as the words left my mouth, I knew they were just as lost as I was.
CAELUM'S POV
"Alright, everyone," I said, brushing the dust from my hands as I faced the crowd gathered around the covered sculpture.
"What you're about to see is my interpretation of The Thinker."
I pulled the sheet away.
Gasps rippled through the room.
The sculpture stood tall and solid—The Thinker reimagined as a woman, seated in quiet contemplation. Satin folds flowed over carved stone, concealing her form without erasing it. Massive angel wings rose from her back, each feather shaped by hand, chisel marks softened by weeks of sanding.
But what had taken the longest—what I'd obsessed over more than the wings—was her posture.
Her head was slightly bowed, her gaze lowered to her hands.
Resting across her lap was a stone ruler, its edges precise, its markings faint but deliberate. One of her fingers traced along its length, paused at a single etched line—as if measuring something only she could see.
I hadn't meant for it to feel symbolic.
I just needed balance. Proportion. The piece hadn't felt right until I added it.
The reactions were immediate—and divided.
Some people leaned in, drawn to the detail. Others stiffened, unimpressed.
My agent, Jonah, looked at me like I'd just detonated something.
"Oh boy," I muttered.
After the showcase ended, Jonah pulled me aside, his jaw tight.
"What were you thinking?" he asked. "Don't you realize how controversial this is?"
"Jonah, you know how hard I worked on this," I said, flexing my fingers out of habit, the faint ache still there. "You told me to let my imagination go wild."
"Yes—but this?" He gestured sharply. "This could get you blacklisted. Do you know what this could do to your career—"
I stopped listening.
Three months.
Three months of measuring angles, recalculating proportions, shaving stone down millimeter by millimeter. Of sleepless nights and dust-coated lungs. All of it poured into this one piece—just to be told it wasn't enough.
My breathing hitched.
Panic crashed over me, sudden and overwhelming. I stumbled toward a chair and sat down hard, my hands shaking.
"Hold on," Jonah said, noticing. "Let me get you some water."
But the pain had already started.
It struck behind my eyes, sharp and blinding. My vision swam, tears spilling before I could stop them.
"I—I need to get to a hospital," I said, forcing myself upright.
The room tilted. The floor felt distant.
Everything spun.
My legs gave out, and I fell—
Darkness swallowed me whole.
When I came back to my senses, I was lying on cold ground.
Not polished gallery stone.
Something else.
Somewhere dark.
I thought it was a nightmare—until I saw them.
Aelion.
Nyxar.
They were there too, just stirring.
Aelion looked between us, confusion etched on his face. "Um… where are we?"
None of us answered.
Because none of us knew.
"Oh shit," I muttered.
NYXAR'S POV
As soon as the guys left, the apartment sank into silence.
I let out a slow breath. "Finally," I muttered. "Peace and quiet."
I've always worked better at night.
Everything feels clearer then—my thoughts, my focus, my instincts. I suppose it makes sense, given my name.
During the day, I sleep. I cling to the calm while I can.
At night, I save lives.
After a thirty-minute meditation, I slid beneath my blanket, the world fading as my breathing evened out.
Sleep came quickly.
Too quickly.
I was at the hospital.
At first, everything felt normal—too normal. The halls were quiet, monitors humming softly. No alarms. No chaos. The kind of shift nurses pray for.
Then the doors burst open.
"Incoming patient!" someone shouted.
A body was rushed in on a gurney—convulsing, unstable. Aneurysm. Critical.
I was already moving before I consciously decided to. Gloves on. Mask secured. My hands were steady as I leaned over the patient.
That's when I noticed it.
The body was covered in strange markings—dark, ink-like symbols etched into skin, twisting and sharp, almost resembling blades or fractured lines.
And the face—
Blurred. Unrecognizable.
"That's odd," I murmured.
I reached for the anesthesia, fitted the mask over the patient's face, and released the gas.
"Easy," I said softly. "You're safe."
But the body fought back.
Violently.
The monitors screamed as the patient thrashed, fingers clawing at the air. One hand shot up and gripped my wrist—tight.
Cold rushed through me.
The face began to clear.
My breath caught.
It was me.
My own eyes stared back at me, wide and frantic.
"Run away from your fate!" he screamed.
Something flashed in his hand—
A pair of surgical scissors, gleaming under the harsh lights. The blades snapped shut once, sharply, the sound echoing far louder than it should have.
He shoved me.
I stumbled backward—and the floor vanished beneath my feet.
I fell.
Down.
Into endless darkness.
I woke up gasping.
Cold ground pressed against my back.
Shadows stretched endlessly around me.
I wasn't alone.
Aelion and Caelum were there too, both stirring, both just as disoriented.
My head throbbed as I tried to sit up. Aelion was speaking, but his voice sounded distant, muffled—like it was coming from another world.
This wasn't a dream.
I knew that much.
Something was wrong.
Something had brought us here.
...
Darkness pressed in around them.
The ground beneath their bodies was cold and unfamiliar, like stone that had never known warmth. One by one, they stirred—groans breaking the heavy silence as consciousness returned.
None of them remembered how they had arrived.
But all three of them knew the same thing.
This place was not a dream.
"I was just… dreaming," Nyxar said, his voice unsteady. "And then all of a sudden, I'm here."
"And we were at work," Aelion added, speaking for himself and Caelum. "Then I got this sudden migraine—"
"Me too!" Caelum exclaimed.
They exchanged uneasy looks, the realization settling in deeper.
Before any of them could speak again, the darkness shifted.
Three towering figures emerged before them—massive silhouettes framed by enormous, floating clocks. The faces of the figures were hidden, obscured by shadows and shifting symbols, their presence bending the air itself.
Fear crept into the boys' chests.
And yet—
Something about them felt familiar.
"Whatever you do," the figures spoke in perfect unison, their voices echoing through the void, "never stay apart from one another. Your strength grows when you are together."
The boys frowned, confusion overtaking their fear.
"What are you talking about?" Caelum asked, his voice steady despite the tension.
Silence followed.
Then one figure stepped forward slightly, the ticking of its clock growing louder.
"It will all make sense," it said, "when the time is right."
The ground began to shake.
Cracks spread beneath their feet as the dark realm trembled violently. The figures vanished without warning, swallowed by the shadows as the world around them began to collapse.
Instinctively, the brothers grabbed onto one another.
The ground broke apart.
They fell.
"Not again," Nyxar muttered.
They woke up gasping on the living room floor.
Light flooded their vision as reality slammed back into place. Familiar walls. Familiar furniture.
Home.
They scrambled upright, panic still clinging to their skin.
"How did we get home?" Caelum asked, his voice tight. "Aelion and I passed out at work."
"And I was asleep in my bed," Nyxar added.
"This doesn't make any sense," Caelum said.
"That's the least of our problems," Nyxar suddenly said, pointing toward the wall. "Look."
Letters were forming—scrambling, shifting, as if being written by an invisible hand.
Greek symbols burned faintly against the surface;
Ενωμένοι από τη μοίρα και το αίμα, θα αντιμετωπίσετε έναν κίνδυνο για την αιωνιότητα…
Slowly, they translated it.
"United by fate and blood," Aelion read aloud, "you will face a danger for eternity."
Silence filled the room.
"What do you think that means?" Aelion asked quietly.
"I don't know," Caelum said, his chest tightening. "But I don't think it's a warning we can ignore."
The air grew heavy around them as the weight of everything they had seen—and everything they didn't yet understand—settled in.