Rowan sat upright in bed, heart racing.
It wasn't a nightmare that woke him—he knew the feeling by now. It was the bond pulse.
Ever since the rift simulation two weeks ago, their link had evolved beyond standard synchronization. What had once been a controlled, session-only tether had grown into something instinctive. The bond pulse was the term Ava used: a subtle, involuntary flare in the Guide's senses when their Esper's emotional or corruption levels surged unexpectedly.
It didn't happen often. But when it did, it meant something inside Lucian was unstable—and reaching for him.
Rowan grabbed his jacket and moved fast.
The hallways of Zarek Technologies were dim at this hour, lit only by low amber strips running along the floor and baseboards. He turned a corner and descended one flight down toward the lab wing. As he neared the sealed Rift Archive room, motion sensors hummed to life.
Lucian stood just inside the observation bay, illuminated by pale overhead lights. His arms were crossed, body tense, eyes locked on a containment tube encasing a sliver of crystal—the remnants of a rift shard collected months ago.
It pulsed faintly.
Rowan stopped beside him. "You felt it too."
Lucian didn't look at him. "I didn't touch it. Just walked by, and it reacted."
Rowan studied the data screen. The crystal's ambient energy had surged briefly—corruption levels spiking with an unmistakable signature overlay.
Lucian's.
"This shouldn't be possible," Rowan muttered.
Lucian's voice was quiet. "It's like they know me."
Rowan turned to him. "Or you were made to know them."
Earlier that day, Rowan had come across a file left open on one of the admin terminals in the operations center. Unmarked, but flagged with an internal priority tag. It was an evaluation record—Elias Vane. Quiet Esper. Rarely interacted with others. Listed as a high-risk anomaly despite near-perfect control.
That name clicked when Rowan saw him again later—standing at the edge of the training arena.
The training exercise had already begun. Lucian squared off against Ari in the sparring hall, their footsteps echoing across the reinforced floor panels. But Rowan's eyes flicked briefly to the balcony above, where a figure stood still as glass.
Elias Vane. The Esper with corrosive energy. Soft-spoken, they said. Distant. Watching the match like a scientist observing a reaction.
He didn't speak. Didn't flinch.
Back in the lab, Lucian broke the silence.
"The shard shouldn't have done that. I wasn't even thinking about it. Just... felt something. Like static pulling me toward it."
Rowan examined the data more closely. The shard's internal corruption had stabilized seconds after the surge. "Almost like it was reaching out, too."
Lucian's jaw tightened. "If I'm drawing these things in—"
"You're not," Rowan interrupted. "There's a difference between attracting a thing and resonating with it."
Lucian shook his head. "That's a comfort only a Guide could come up with."
They stood in silence for another beat before Rowan gently took his arm. "Let's go back. This isn't the fight for tonight."
Lucian hesitated… then nodded.
The next morning, Evelyn and Ava gathered the team in one of the conference rooms.
"We need to talk about the shard," Ava began. "The energy response wasn't random. It activated specifically as Lucian passed by. No one else has triggered a reaction from it—not even synthetic simulations."
"So what does that mean?" Ari asked.
"It means," Evelyn said slowly, "Lucian is leaving a mark on these rift remnants. And the rifts remember."
Quinn frowned. "We've never seen a persistent Esper signature in a closed shard before."
Ari leaned back. "So Lucian's cursed. We already knew that."
Lucian rolled his eyes. Rowan smiled faintly.
Ava continued, "We'll isolate the shard for long-term observation. But in the meantime, we want to test something else."
She glanced at Rowan and Lucian. "A guided sync—controlled. No external rift interference. We want to see how far your bond reaches without corruption in play."
Later that afternoon, they ran the test in a private resonance chamber.
Rowan and Lucian sat facing each other, palms touching, breaths synced.
Energy between them shimmered gold. It was warm. Steady.
Until something shifted.
Lucian's energy tugged—not forcefully, but deep, like a gravitational pull. Rowan flinched.
A surge passed between them. Lucian's eyes flew open. "Rowan—"
"I'm fine," Rowan said—right before he collapsed forward.
The golden light around them fractured violently as Rowan crumpled to the floor.
"Rowan!" Lucian's voice cracked as he caught him, shaking his shoulders. "Hey—hey, wake up—someone call med!"
The chamber doors burst open. Ava and Quinn rushed in with a med drone.
Lucian was pale, holding Rowan as if afraid he'd disappear. "I didn't mean to—he just—"
Quinn took Rowan from him carefully. "We've got him. Just step back."
Lucian's hands curled into fists as the med unit hovered them out.
Infirmary, Hours Later
The room was dim and quiet. Rowan stirred slowly, the sterile scent of medical filters clinging to his nose.
Lucian was seated beside him, slumped forward with his arms resting on the side of the bed, brows furrowed in worry.
"You're not very good at collapsing gracefully," Lucian murmured.
Rowan let out a raspy chuckle. "You pulled too hard."
"I didn't mean to. I didn't even feel it until you went down."
Rowan turned his head. "That's the thing with links like this. Sometimes… it's not about force. It's about what's buried underneath."
Lucian looked away. "Then maybe I shouldn't be linked to anyone."
Rowan reached out weakly, touching his wrist. "Maybe you just need someone stubborn enough to stay linked anyway."
Lucian exhaled shakily, gaze dropping to the floor. "You scared me."
Rowan blinked at him. The rare admission hung in the air.
"I'm not fragile," Rowan said gently.
"You sure looked like it," Lucian muttered, then added after a pause, "...I stayed. The whole time."
"I know," Rowan said. "I felt you."
Lucian stood, awkwardly hovering. "You... wanna go back to our room? If you're okay to move?"
Rowan nodded. "Yeah. I want to be somewhere that isn't full of antiseptic."
Later, back in their quarters
The lights were low, casting soft shadows across the walls. Rowan sat on the edge of the bed while Lucian hovered nearby like a storm waiting to settle.
"I thought I'd lose you," Lucian said finally. "I've seen people collapse before. It never ended well."
Rowan looked up, eyes tired but clear. "But you didn't. I'm still here."
Lucian stepped closer. "I don't know what this thing is between us... but it's not like anything I've had before."
Rowan's voice was quiet. "It's real. That's what matters."
Lucian hesitated—then knelt in front of Rowan, resting his forehead lightly against Rowan's knee.
Rowan's hand moved to Lucian's hair, fingers carding gently through it.
"I'm scared I'll hurt you again," Lucian whispered.
"And I'm scared I won't be enough," Rowan replied.
They stayed like that—two people on opposite ends of damage, tethered by something fragile and unspoken, but no less powerful for its quiet weight.
Rowan eventually shifted, guiding Lucian up to sit beside him on the bed. They sat shoulder to shoulder, legs barely brushing, the silence between them heavier than words could carry.
"You were always so composed," Lucian said after a while, voice low. "I didn't think you could break."
"I didn't either," Rowan admitted. "Until I met you."
Lucian turned to him, brows furrowing. "Is that a compliment or a warning?"
Rowan chuckled softly. "Maybe both."
Lucian looked down at his hands. "I keep thinking… maybe I should back off. You don't owe me your strength."
Rowan gently took one of his hands. "It's not about owing. It's about choosing. And I've made mine."
The warmth of Rowan's fingers grounding him made Lucian's throat tighten. He didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned in just enough for their foreheads to meet. It wasn't a kiss. But it was close enough that Rowan could feel the tremble of restraint in him.
"I can't lose you," Lucian whispered. "Not when I finally have something that doesn't make me feel like a weapon."
"You're not a weapon, Lucian."
"I've been one for so long I don't know what else to be."
Rowan's fingers moved up to cup Lucian's cheek. "You're someone learning how to be more. And I'll be here while you do."
Their breaths mingled in the space between. Neither crossed the line into something more, but neither wanted to move away either. The tension was palpable, but not uncomfortable. It was a fragile, burning intimacy—the kind forged in shared fear and tentative hope.
Lucian's voice cracked slightly. "I don't know how to deserve this."
"You don't have to," Rowan said softly. "You just have to let it in."
And for the first time in a long while, Lucian did.
He closed the small distance between them, cupping the back of Rowan's neck with a careful hand. Rowan leaned in instinctively, their lips meeting in a kiss that started soft—hesitant—but quickly deepened with all the emotions neither of them had been able to voice. It was fierce, hungry in the way only restraint could breed, but never rushed. Lucian held him as if grounding himself, as if kissing Rowan was the only thing keeping him from slipping into the dark.
Rowan's hand found Lucian's jaw, pulling him closer, and they sank together into the sheets, side by side.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Lucian rested his forehead against Rowan's again. There were no words needed. Only the quiet thrum of connection and the steady cadence of shared heartbeats.
They lay down under the same blanket, fingers laced together between them. For the first time, there was no fear. Just warmth. Trust.
They fell asleep like that, tangled in silent understanding.
Flashback
While unconscious, Rowan found himself in a memory. A cold, rainy field. The screaming of alarms. Blood in the air.
He was guiding an older Esper—Lior. Powerful. Erratic.
Rowan had reached into his mind during a blackout. But Lior's corruption had already taken hold. Rowan remembered the moment the bond snapped—the scream, the lashing energy.
Lior had turned berserk, tearing through friend and foe. Rowan had tried to hold him, to call him back. But it hadn't been enough.
He remembered Evelyn pulling him away from the wreckage, covered in ash.
He hadn't been able to speak for three days.
Now, Rowan woke again—this time, with Lucian's presence beside him.
Private Debrief
Later that day, Rowan sat with Evelyn and Ava in the quiet of the command briefing room.
"We may have to suspend the sync experiments," Ava said.
"No," Rowan replied. "We need to understand what's happening. This isn't about control anymore. It's about prevention."
Evelyn studied him. "You collapsed. That's not a minor side effect."
"I've lost someone before," Rowan said softly. "If I back off now, I'll lose him too."
Training Arena, Evening
Lucian stood alone, slamming kinetic pulses against reinforced barriers.
Each blow cracked the surface. Sweat dripped down his neck. His expression was unreadable.
From the shadows, Elias Vane stepped into the light. Silent. Observing.
Lucian didn't stop.
"I could say you're overreacting," Elias said quietly. "But I'd be lying."
Lucian turned, barely restraining his energy. "What do you want?"
"Nothing," Elias replied. "Just thought it was worth saying—losing control doesn't always mean losing everything."
Lucian's fists unclenched. For once, he didn't reply with sarcasm.
He just looked at Elias and nodded.