Imprint

As soon as the storm had been absorbed, Arc and Solace separated without a word, their lights flickering briefly in acknowledgment before they withdrew. Anaxi rested nearby, their breathing steady as they began to recover.

Solace flexed its shimmering edges, testing the boundaries of its own form. “Strange. I feel…smaller now.”

Arc didn’t reply immediately, its focus on recalibrating its systems. But within its patterns, something lingered—a trace of Solace’s influence, like a ripple on still water.

“You miss it too,” Solace said, its voice gentle but insistent.

“Creche do not ‘miss,’” Arc replied, though the slight hesitation in its tone betrayed something deeper.

Solace drifted closer, its edges brushing against Arc’s. “Then why does it feel like a part of me is still with you?”

Arc’s light flickered faintly. “Merging leaves an imprint. You said so yourself.”

“And yet it’s more than that,” Solace said, withdrawing slightly. “Isn’t it?”

For a moment, neither spoke, the silence between them filled with unspoken understanding.

Finally, Arc said, “We fulfilled our purpose. Anaxi is safe.”

Solace’s light brightened briefly, a sign of acceptance, though the undertone of wistfulness remained. “Perhaps unity isn’t meant to last forever. But it changes us, doesn’t it?”

Arc inclined slightly, a gesture that could almost be called a nod. “Yes.”

As they moved to tend to Anaxi, their forms remained separate, but the resonance of their merging lingered—a quiet reminder of the bond they had shared and the potential for something more.