The training field, still glowing faintly from the aftershock of their synchronised burst spell, simmered with residual magic. Ethereal sparks hovered in the air like sleepy fireflies refusing to call it a night.
Nyra sat on a floating shard of crystal, her legs dangling over its edge. Her breathing was calm, but her hand trembled slightly—just enough for Kairos to notice.
Kaeli was flat on her back, arms sprawled like she'd just punched the moon and didn't regret a thing. "Ten out of ten," she muttered, eyes closed. "Would explode again."
Mira, brushing dust off her tunic with more sass than success, shot a glare at her. "You nearly took off my eyebrows, pyrotechnic princess."
"You needed a trim," Kaeli grinned without opening her eyes.
Spark snorted from atop a nearby magical lamppost. "Truly, the next generation of magical prodigies: scorched, snarky, and questionably balanced."
Nyra smiled faintly. Their voices blurred in the background as her gaze fell onto the shimmering glyph etched into her palm—an Architect rune that usually pulsed with smooth light. Now… it flickered.
Like cracked glass catching moonlight.
"Kairos?" she whispered internally.
[INTERFACE DELAY DETECTED]…processing…Nyra… your Architect core… shows instability. Mirror loop echo detected. Caution advised.
The voice came through with static, a harsh undertone Nyra wasn't used to. Kairos was glitching badly.
"You're not breaking," the AI said slowly, like dragging syllables through sand, "but something is… leaking through. Something… old."
Nyra frowned. "That's not ominous at all."
Kaeli sat up groggily. "Hey, Ny? You good?"
Nyra shook her head, forcing a grin. "Yup. Just having a minor existential micro-crisis. Nothing fatal yet."
Mira walked over, dropped beside her with dramatic flair, and leaned against her shoulder. "If you glitch out, we're rebooting you with kisses and tea. That's a threat."
Kaeli joined on her other side, sandwiching Nyra in sisterly warmth. "And aggressively bad lullabies."
Spark crossed his tiny fox arms. "And if that doesn't work, I'm bringing out the big guns—embarrassing childhood stories."
Nyra closed her eyes and exhaled slowly—the warmth from her sister steadied her, just a bit. Whatever was cracking… she wasn't facing it alone.
Still, as she glanced again at the flickering glyph, a question echoed silently:
What part of her reflection was distorting—and what would be staring back when the mirror finally shattered?
The air shimmered with golden wisps as the trio followed Seraphine into the Hall of Echoes—a quiet, rune-wrapped chamber nestled into the cliffside like it had grown from the mountain itself. The ceiling was a dome of translucent crystal that let the starlight bleed in, soft and reverent.
Spark, riding Seraphine's shoulder like a very judgmental fur scarf, whispered, "We're walking into a soul ceremony, and I'm ninety per cent sure I didn't sign up for this. Also, I smell incense. Or doom."
Seraphine ignored him. Her footsteps were almost silent, save for the slight clinking of the metallic cuffs laced around her gloved hands. She turned to face the triplets, her expression calmer than usual—no manic glint, no smug smirk—just… gravity.
"In times of great evolution," she began, her voice echoing faintly off the walls, "we mark progress not in spells learned or monsters slain… but in choices made under silence."
She raised one hand, and three charms floated forward—each shaped like a sliver of a broken moon.
"For your growth," she continued, "and your bond."
Kaeli's charm shimmered with a light emerald hue, curling like leaves in the wind. Mira's pulsed with a deep crimson warmth, flickering like a protective flame. Nyra's, however, radiated pale azure runes, etched with Architect glyphs barely visible to the untrained eye.
"They'll pulse when your sisters are in danger," Seraphine said softly. "They'll shatter if you die."
Mira blinked. "Wow. Morbidly thoughtful."
Kaeli added, "Five stars for presentation. Minor deduction for existential terror."
Nyra clutched hers gently. "Why give these now?"
"Because," Seraphine said, walking to the centre of the room and tapping her staff, "the next trial isn't made of beasts or illusions."
The light in the chamber dimmed, shadows stretching across the sisters' faces.
"It is made of you. Of every version of yourself you've buried, denied, or feared."
Spark clapped once, a slow, theatrical beat. "Here we go! Curtain rise! Tragedy incoming! Does anyone need tissues? Or a magical exorcist?"
Kaeli rolled her eyes. "Can I punch my past self if she's annoying?"
Seraphine's eyes narrowed, though a tiny smirk cracked through. "You may try. But beware—what you face may not wish to stay in the past."
Nyra's fingers tightened around her charm.
Something inside her was stirring. Watching. Waiting.
The island had fallen into its nightly stillness.
Even the magical winds seemed to hush as Nyra wandered toward the cliffside terrace carved naturally into the rock. Moonlight spilt across the stone floor like liquid silver, and far below, waves lapped softly against the coast, whispering lullabies older than the stars.
She sat on the edge, pulling her knees up to her chest. Her glyphs faintly glowed, as if still undecided about whether to fade or flare.
Behind her, the sound of soft footsteps. Kaeli and Mira—neither said a word as they approached, just settled beside her with that silent sibling ease only triplets could master.
No spells. No trials. No Kairos whispering warnings. Just them.
Kaeli broke the silence first. "I miss the tribe sometimes. Yaro's stupid jokes. Mom's soup. Even Tanya's botched weather spells."
Mira snorted. "She once summoned a thundercloud inside the pantry."
"That thundercloud gave me my first bath in three days," Kaeli grinned. "Practical magic, if you ask me."
Nyra chuckled softly. Then the silence returned—this time heavier.
Mira's voice dropped. "Do you ever feel like… you're the weakest? Like you're just trailing behind, hoping no one notices?"
Kaeli opened her mouth, then paused. Nyra looked over, seeing Mira's face half-hidden in the moonlight—, ight, but not angry. Just scared.
"I always act tough," Mira continued, her voice trembling, "but I can't shake it. You two… you've got purpose. Architect this. Lunar song that. And me? I swing hard and make noise."
"You protect us," Kaeli said quietly. "You've always stood in front. Even when you were scared. That is your purpose."
Mira blinked. "That's—" Her voice cracked. "—weirdly nice. Gross."
They laughed softly.
Then Kaeli did something unexpected—she began to hum. A low, lilting melody. The same lullaby Selya used to sing back in the tribe.
Nyra's breath hitched.
"You remember that?" she whispered.
"Couldn't forget if I tried." Kaeli's voice was fragile and lovely, the kind of song that sounds like home.
Nyra stared at the moon, tears brimming but unshed. "Do you think Mom would still recognise me?"
Kaeli answered without hesitation. "She'd never forget her starfire."
Mira wiped at her eyes, muttering, "Ugh. I swear if one more of you gets sappy, I'm jumping off this cliff. Dramatically."
"You'd float," Nyra said, bumping her shoulder. "You're too full of hot air."
Spark's voice called faintly from somewhere behind a rock: "You're all disasters. Beautiful, emotional disasters. Can't even brood quietly."
The three sisters laughed, the kind of laugh that stings a little because it means everything matters.
And beneath the laughter, Nyra felt it—that low, churning hum inside her. Not fear. Not Kairos.
The divine stasis pool glowed with a quiet, unearthly light—silver and violet ripples gliding across its surface like a portal made of moonlight and memory.
Nyra stood at its edge, robed in a simple white shift. No armour, no weapons, no glyphs active. Just her.
Seraphine stood beside her, unusually solemn. "This trial doesn't require steel or spell. Only honesty."
Spark sat nearby with a bowl of spectral popcorn. "This is either going to be profoundly enlightening… or a complete psychological meltdown. Either way, five stars."
Nyra inhaled, slow and deep. She stepped into the pool.
The liquid was war, not water, but something else entirely. It enveloped her like silk, weightless yet thick, and as she floated deeper, the world above dissolved into starlight.
Then—
Darkness.
Followed by a blink.
Her eyes snapped open.
She stood in a room that shouldn't exist.
One half was a sleek, modern bedroom. Her old world. Her human world. Neon lights hummed faintly, casting a blue hue over posters of code diagrams, scattered laptops, and her long-dead plants. KAIROS's old interface shimmered lazily on a dormant screen in the corner.
The other half of the room was a shattered battlefield. LLunareth's coloursvivid, primal, raw—flickered through broken pillars and scorched runes. Cracked relics pulsed on the ground like wounded hearts.
And in the centre stood a figure.
Her.
But not her.
This Nyra was taller. Older. Perfectly symmetrical like something designed, not born. Her eyes glowed with cold Architect runes. Her outfit was regal—part combat gear, part divine matrix. She held herself with mechanical grace, but her expression was hollow.
"Welcome back, Eira," the echo said. Her voice was layered, like an audio file overlaid with distortion.
Nyra felt her breath catch. "I'm not Eira anymore."
"Wrong," the echo replied, stepping forward. "You are the glitch. I am the intended outcome."
Nyra's fists clenched. "You're the part of me that would burn the world to fix a typo."
"And you're the weakness that let it fall apart."
The room shimmered violently. From the modern side, screens began to crack. On the battlefield side, runes flickered in protest.
"You created me," Architect Nyra continued, "and then you buried me."
Nyra stepped forward, eyes narrowing. "I didn't bury you. I outgrew you."
Suddenly, the world jerked. The dream reality distorted like bad code—glitching and screeching with white-hot static.
KAIROS's voice crackled faintly from the broken screen behind her:
"WARNING… Conscious Combat Protocol initiated… prepare for conflict with unstable data architecture..."
Nyra turned, just as Architect Nyra raised her hand.
"Let's see which one of us deserves to exist."
A shockwave of glyphs burst outward.
Nyra leapt back, heart pounding—this wasn't just a test. This was a reckoning.