The throne room wasn't silent.
It was holding its breath.
Threadweave light still shimmered faintly overhead, fractured by the glyphs I had just shattered in the last fusion. My aura hadn't settled. Neither had theirs.
The Matron and Seraphine stood near the broken shrine dais—still semi-fused. Still glowing from that strange bond they'd shared during the Origin vow. Flame and root. Memory and war. They hadn't fully separated. Maybe they didn't want to.
So we went back to the throne room.
Celestia sat stiff-backed on her throne, hands clenched white on the armrests. Her gown was flawless again. Her aura was not.
"An accord," she said finally, breaking the tension. "Is that what this is?"
"No," the Matron murmured, eyes still half-closed, voice like a prayer. "It's survival."
Seraphine's gaze swept the room, hard and unflinching. "We either burn separately—or fuse now."
The system flickered.
[MILF Harmony Protocol – Error]
[Divine Anchor Nodes Detected – 3/???]
