The night after Aurelion's unification, the stars refused to rest. They burned brighter than the suns, weaving strange signs across the sky, as though the world itself waited for something—or someone.
I stood in the courtyard beneath the phoenix banners, the summon card glowing faintly in my hand. A month had passed since the last reward, and as promised, a second card had been unlocked by my system's will.
Arina's voice drifted softly through my thoughts. "Host, two summons are now ready. Synced frequency detected—twin connection. Would you like to proceed?"
"Twins?" I murmured.
Her tone smiled. "Not by blood. By fate."
Gold runes spiralled into the air around me, wind rising like a storm of light. The ground shimmered beneath my feet, forming a circle of flame and stars.
The first figure appeared out of that light—a woman cloaked in pale blue mist. She floated a few inches above the ground, hair long and silver-white, falling like threads of moonlight. Her eyes were crystal blue but hollow, like someone who had stared too long at the sky and forgotten what warmth felt like.
The second appeared moments later, stepping from the same summoning circle. Her presence burned hotter — hair dark violet, eyes bright as ruby fire. She carried herself like someone who once ruled a battlefield but had lost her crown to betrayal. The air itself trembled around her.
They stood side by side — opposites written in the same script.
Arina's voice whispered in introduction, calm but almost reverent. "Summon completed. Designation One: Nyra. Designation Two: Sera. Fated Sisters of Shadow and Flame."
Summoned Entity: Nyra, the Silent Moon
Age: 23
Cultivation: Half-Saint, ascending to Saint Tier
Spiritual Root: Lunar Frost
Innate Talent: Celestial Reflection (mirrors enemy techniques)
Physique: Spirit Moon Vessel
Technique: Thousand Petal Serenity Scripture
Speciality: Illusion Combat, Soul Healing
Favorability: 47/100
She bowed slightly, her movements graceful and sharp at once. "You are my summoner," she said softly, her voice smooth like breath on glass. There was no bow of respect, no hesitation of tone—an—an a cold statement in perfect calm.
Her eyes studied me like she was measuring distance, not greeting loyalty.
Arina added privately, "Nyra's heart is bound by loss. She cannot easily trust; her favour remains below fifty until that knot is freed."
I glanced at the faint scar near her collarbone—just an old mark shaped like a fracturing moon. "What bound her?" I whispered.
"An oath," Arina replied. "She broke it to save innocents—and—and—and—and lost her sect's faith in the process."
The memory flashed before my eyes—a vision of Nyra kneeling before elders in white robes, accused of treason for protecting a small village from her sect's purge. They shattered her cultivation core that day and left her body in the snow.
I stepped toward her. "You don't serve me," I said quietly. "You walk beside me, tired—as—hair one saved, not owned."
For a heartbeat, her cold stare flickered, the faintest warmth breaking through.
Summoned Entity: Sera, Crimson Star Valkyrie
Age: 25
Cultivation: Late Saint Tier
Spiritual Root: Crimson Sun
Innate Talent: Burning Soul Resonance (amplifies allies' power)
Physique: War Valkyrie Body
Technique: Infernal Radiance Sutra
Speciality: Army Command, Burst Combat, Flame Control
Favorability: 45/100
Where Nyra was quiet snow, Sera was living fire. Her presence was confident but tired, her crimson aura dimmed from battles long ago.
She looked at me with eyes that had seen too much war. "You called me from silence," she said, voice steady but hollow. "What do you want from the dead?"
I shook my head. "Nothing. Only to remind you that the dead can burn again."
Her lips twitched in what might have been —oppositesamusement—or tired pain.
Arina's voice whispered again. "Sera was once a general under the Celestial Dominion. Her command numbered ten thousand soldiers. During a siege, her own emperor sacrificed her army to gain divine favour. She fought alone until her blade broke, holding the line so her people could flee. Her heart's knot is guilt—that believes survival itself was betrayal."
I met her red gaze and said gently, "You didn't survive out of weakness, Sera. You survived because the fire inside you refused to die—that fire belongs to the living, not the lost."
Her laugh was short and bitter. "Words."
"Truth," I corrected quietly. "You'll see."
The air stilled between us—two solemn souls whose lives had been chains of tragedy.
Where others might have fallen at my feet, they only stood—wary, scarred, and sharp. They had uncertain hearts that still bled unseen.
Valtryn stepped forward from the watching circle, studying them both. "Warriors who won't kneel… fitting for Solaryn's new age."
Morvessa smiled faintly. "They remind me of someone."
"Me?" I asked.
"No," she said. "Us."
Faith approached the two new summons, her divine light flickering gently. "Your wounds aren't eternal," she said softly. "But healing begins with choosing trust, not remembering betrayal."
Nyra turned away, whispering, "Trust is expensive."
Sera folded her arms, her voice low. "We'll fight if the cause is worthy."
I nodded. "Then fight beside me until you decide if it is."
Their eyes met briefly, then turned toward me again—uncertain but in power, but no longer cold.
The system chimed softly.
[Fate Bond Established: Nyra—47/100 | Sera—45/100] [Task: Heal their Hearts to Unlock Full Power.]
Arina's tone was proud. "Host, your summons reflects you—forces—uncertain, divided but united in purpose. Nurture them, and they will become your shield and spear when the Great Bridge opens."
For a moment, I just looked at them both—two souls drawn across realms, standing before me under the same moonlight that had watched their tragedies.
"I can't erase your pasts," I said quietly. "But I can promise you this: your stories will not end in betrayal. You'll write new ones—here, as part of this world."
This time, neither argued. Nyra bowed her head slightly, and Sera simply lifted her sword in quiet salute.
Above us, the light from the two moons merged, one pale, one red. The glow washed over them both, softening their edges, bridging the cold and the flame into something new.
"Welcome home," I said.
Two voices answered quietly in unison, the same two words carrying different kinds of pain—
And perhaps, for the first time, a hint of hope.