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Inara told a very old story from millennia ago about a people called Xal'tor, natives of a distant planet called Vherak'na.
They possessed intelligence and an ancient magic so powerful that they could even shape reality itself as they wished, but by seeking power, even feeding on their own race, they ended up being extinct due to their insatiable hunger.
As she told the story, Luna's interest only grew.
A new culture — myths and stories.
Everything was distinct in some way. And even without understanding, grasping the most important points wasn't hard, although there were many doubts and loose ends.
But in the end, it seemed to be nothing more than a fantastical tale.
Nothing more.
The droid next to Inara, however, seemed incredulous with the story. Honestly, that shouldn't even be told.
Madness.
That was the thought defining it.
Either Inara was simply killing time, or some neural dysfunction made her believe that this made sense.
After minutes of telling the story, Inara finished with a slight smile, looking at Luna, now fed and lying in the small bed of the incubator.
She turned to the droid then, only to find its antennas lowered, in a gesture that almost conveyed a human-like expression of pure disappointment.
— I don't understand the logic behind choosing this kind of story. The usual would be something more fabulous, like fairy tales of princesses or princes, my mistress. — The discrepancy between the story was too much even for a robot to comprehend.
— You don't need to understand the logic. Now, let's go. We can't stay too long.
At that moment, she stood up, giving one last look at Luna before thinking to herself: She looks like the senator... the calm way she acts, even her vivid eyes.
She placed the baby in the incubator and walked away, accompanied by the robot, which also gave a final glance at the little one before the door closed.
When they left, Luna sat up in the incubator, trying to make sense of what had just happened. She struggled to remember Inara's words, as her mind was still fighting to retain memories.
What the hell.
I'm stuck in this form now.
After reflecting in silence for some time, minutes passed quickly, and then that feeling from earlier surged through her chest again.
Luna then made the decision to connect to that invisible thing in her mind. She closed her eyes and focused on the thread that clung tightly.
At first, the mental thread slid like flowing water, gently moving towards a calm river.
Gradually, the sensation began to waver — what once resembled the light and volatile flow of water became something misshapen, unstable. A flow of pure chaos.
Luna felt the impact on her body before even understanding what was happening. She staggered, lost her balance, and fell sitting, as if the very link inside her had been twisting.
Crack!
For a moment, returning from the depths of her mind, she felt engulfed by a sudden suffocation. Her eyes spun in agony, and her little hands reached in vain for her own throat.
There was weight in her gaze and fog in her mind, and only one word escaped her, instinctively:
Am… I?
She didn't understand, and yet she understood what had just occurred.
The memories of the other body felt like a distant echo, unreal to accept. She laughed — or at least tried — but in the fragile body of a child, the sound that emerged was a contained sob, and tears that didn't fall, just accumulated in her eyes, still as dew stuck to the leaves at dawn.
Then the tears finally fell, silently.
For she knew, in part, that the life of riches and ease had been denied to her. There was a part of her, lost somewhere in the world, threatened and at risk of dying at any moment.
What do I do?
Her mind was consumed by fear.
There was nothing more she could do but fall into an involuntary sleep after much thought — her eyes closing as a defense for the fragile body, the flesh responding.
What the hell.
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Terrifying.
As days — and later, months — went by, Rinn and Luna gradually began to understand how the mental thread connecting their minds worked — an invisible bond, thinner than the wind.
It was during moments of rest or sleep, when one drifted off or relaxed, that the thread activated. During these times, they could automatically share information with each other, like a form of communication.
Even if only one of them was asleep, it was still possible to transmit memories, comments, and even brief thoughts.
Over time, they noticed that the more they focused on the invisible link, the clearer the exchange became — as if they were tuning a delicate instrument. It was a gradual evolution, a refinement of the connection that allowed them to access memories with increasing clarity.
In the end, everything came down to synergy. And perhaps, because they were separated by different planets, the physical distance still interfered with the full potential of that silent link.
There was no telling where that connection might lead them, but for now, only one thing mattered...
Survival.
Through the constant exchange of memories and fragments of overheard conversations from the maids — which Luna passed on to Rinn, and he back to her — they began to build a foundation of knowledge, like pieces of a puzzle.
Since Luna had left the incubator months ago and started being carried in the arms of her father, her mother, or the personal maid, she had gathered enough information to understand the basics.
In short, meeting in person was nearly impossible.
From the conversations they overheard, they discovered that, before their birth and to ensure both Rinn and Luna's survival, a ritual had been performed to draw a soul from another world.
In truth, the ritual had not originally been designed to summon a soul. Its purpose was something else: to extract magical essence from the atmosphere and transfer it to a chosen recipient, strengthening their body and spirit.
However, something unexpected occurred.
During the process, a foreign soul — Wyn's — had been accidentally pulled from another world, drawn in by the magical current summoned by the mages.
And because Rinn and Luna were born at the exact moment the ritual was performed, the newly arrived soul, still unstable, did not find a single body to inhabit. It split.
Fragmented into two.
That explained the unusual bond, the growing synchronicity, and why they existed like this — two halves of the same essence, separated and connected by that mental thread within their minds.
And with that...
...twelve years passed.
Swiftly, like fine sand slipping through one's fingers.
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