The familiar ache settled behind Ember's eyes within the first hour of Ash's integration, exactly as she'd expected. It was the same dull throb she'd grown accustomed to during their previous experiences with personality redistribution—uncomfortable but manageable, like a headache that hadn't quite decided whether it wanted to become serious.

"Right on schedule," Cinder grumbled, echoing Ember's own thoughts. They'd retreated to the courtyard after the session, seeking sunlight and fresh air in the wake of what had seemed stuffy confines. "Same old redistribution hangover."

Pyra shrugged, though her own slightly pained expression undermined the show of nonchalance. "At least we're used to it. And hey, we know it'll wear off once Ash is reconstituted, right?"

"Yes, it seems consistent with our previous experiences in that regard," Kindle agreed. She sat with her back against the stone wall enclosing the courtyard, her eyes closed as she tilted her face upward to catch the warm light. "In the meantime, at least there's always Spark to keep us... uh, entertained."

At the mention of his name, Spark heaved himself to his feet and approached Ember, pressing his chin against her thigh with a soft rumble of affection. Ember smiled despite her lingering discomfort, scratching absently between his eyes. Pyra took the opportunity to flop down on the grass next to the salamander, cooing at him.

"You're a good boy, Spark! Such a good boy!" she exclaimed. "Even if you did decide to set my shoe on fire that one time... you crazy troublemaker."

"You realize you're basically talking to us, right?" Ember said, eyebrow raised. "Same mental makeup."

Pyra blinked up at her. "Of course. We're extremely cute."

"You're extremely... something." Cinder leaned back on her hands and stared up at the sky, visibly attempting to ignore Pyra's antics.

"Charismatic? Charming?"

"Sure, let's go with that." Cinder waved a dismissive hand.

"We have the afternoon free until dinner," Kindle cut in, diplomatically steering the conversation away from what Ember worried would become another extended spat. "Maybe we could do some sightseeing around the complex grounds? I mean, there's some pretty interesting stuff here."

Pyra sat up with an eager grin. "See? Kindle's got the right idea. Let's go explore!"

"Fine by me," Ember replied, giving Spark one last affectionate pat before rising to her feet. "A little walk might help us clear our heads."

Cinder rolled to her feet with a grunt. "Lead on, then. Not like I have any better ideas."

The morning progressed with the slow rhythm of mountain time. Unlike their hurried schedule in Amaranth, the monastery operated on natural rhythms that seemed divorced from any external pressure. The Mnemosynes appeared and disappeared without fanfare, checking on their progress but offering no unsolicited advice.

By midday, the worst of the redistribution symptoms had faded to manageable levels. The headaches dulled to a background throb, the muscle tension eased enough that sitting became tolerable again.

"Ready to try bringing Ash back?" Ember asked, studying her sister-selves for signs of lingering discomfort.

"Let's do it," Kindle said, settling into position for the reconstitution ritual they'd performed a few times already.

The process unfolded exactly as expected. Four sets of hands joined, reached into the wellspring of excess energy created by Ash's integration, and channeled it into the familiar vortex of blue flame. Within minutes, Ash's form solidified from fire and consciousness, naked and disoriented but unmistakably herself.

"That was fascinating," she said, accepting the robe Pyra offered. "Complete awareness during integration, but reconstitution felt identical to every other resurrection."

"How do you feel?" Ember asked, noting that Ash's return had eliminated the last traces of her own redistribution headache.

"Like myself, but with the memory of having been distributed across four other minds." Ash tested the solidity of her restored form by flexing her fingers. "I remember experiencing your thoughts and sensations, but it felt more like observing than participating directly."

The Mnemosynes entered the chamber just as Ash finished adjusting her new robe. "How do you all feel?" Endymion asked, eyes sweeping over their assembled faces.

"Great!" Pyra chirped. "No more headaches, and Ash is back."

"These symptoms are typical for your redistribution experiences?" Rinzai asked.

"Yeah. It's been consistent every time," Ember explained. "Mild headache, some muscle tension, general discomfort until she's reconstituted. Not that bad, really."

"Which bodes well for subsequent integration attempts," Endymion observed.

"Once you've adjusted, we'll proceed with the next one," Isra added. "Have you experienced multiple integrations in quick succession before?"

"Never had two of us die simultaneously," Pyra said with a shrug. "Though honestly, the way our luck runs, I'm surprised it hasn't happened yet."

"Bad luck's my specialty," Cinder said dryly.

"Well, if we are attempting multiple consecutive integrations, I volunteer to go next," Kindle announced before Cinder could formulate another self-deprecating quip.

"I volunteer as tribute too! I mean, trial. Volunteer for trial." Pyra thrust her hand into the air with dramatic flair.

Endymion exchanged a glance with Isra. "Enthusiasm is helpful, but these are not inconsequential trials. They carry both psychological and physical stress."

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"Which is why I want to go," Pyra continued. "I'm a distraction machine."

"That you are," Cinder said with a half-grin.

The dual integration began exactly like the single process. Kindle went first, her consciousness making the deliberate choice to abandon physical form. Her body dissolved into wispy flames, then dispersed into nothingness as she allowed herself to be absorbed by her waiting sister-selves.

Pyra followed moments later, her trademark enthusiasm seemingly undiminished even by the act of dissolution.

"See you on the flip side," she said, grinning as her voice grew ethereal.

The moment both integrations completed, Ember knew something was wrong.

Where yesterday's single redistribution had felt like gaining a thoughtful advisor, absorbing two additional personalities simultaneously was more like being pushed into a crowded elevator. The expected power surge that came with integration crashed across her senses, overwhelming Ember with the force of its arrival.

She gasped, doubling over as though she'd been punched in the stomach. "Oh. That's not normal."

Cinder's face went pale, both hands pressed to her temples. "Definitely not normal. This is completely different from our usual redistribution symptoms."

The pain started immediately—not the dull ache they were accustomed to, but sharp, stabbing sensations that seemed to originate behind their eyes and radiate outward. Ember found herself squinting against the chamber's oil lamps, which suddenly felt unbearably bright.

"This isn't like when someone dies," she managed through gritted teeth. "The headaches are supposed to be manageable."

Endymion's frown deepened. "How does this compare to your typical experience?"

"It doesn't," Cinder replied bluntly. "It feels like a migraine that decided to share its misery with the entire neighborhood."

The pain showed no signs of abating, and Ember closed her eyes in a vain attempt to find relief. The closed lids provided no darkness—rather than sensory respite, the absence of visual cues seemed only to heighten the piercing ache behind her eyes.

"So, we're just gonna power through, huh?" Ash's voice was strained.

Ember managed a jerky nod, though she kept her eyes closed. "Nothing we can do but ride it out until we're ready to bring them back."

The Mnemosynes exchanged glances that hinted at shared concern before Endymion offered a hesitant statement.

"Harmonic Integration shouldn't introduce novel symptoms in response to multiple events. The headache you described previously—a manifestation of your minds readjusting to recombined thought patterns. The intensity should increase linearly as you integrate additional sisters, but the character should remain consistent. This—" His eyes tightened as he took in their discomfort. "This seems disproportionately intense."

"Tell that to my skull," Ember muttered, then immediately regretted speaking as the effort intensified her headache.

The hours that followed were torturous, every minute seemingly longer than the last. The pain waxed and waned unpredictably, retreating to a bearable level before surging back with a vengeance. Time became fluid and difficult to track.

By midday, simple conversation required enormous effort.

"Any improvement?" Cinder asked, rubbing her temples as though trying to physically expel the headache.

"Still not right," Ember admitted. She leaned gingerly against the stone wall, its coolness a minor balm against her throbbing skull.

"We need to bring them back," Ash said, though the words emerged slowly, as if speaking required careful coordination.

"Agreed," Cinder managed, massaging her forehead.

The reconstitution process afforded them temporary relief from the crippling pain. With each returned sister, Ember felt her own sensations ease until finally, Pyra emerged and the last vestiges of discomfort subsided. The familiar buzz of blue flames underscored their collective gasps of relief.

"How was the dual experience?" Kindle asked once she'd oriented herself enough to accept the robe Cinder offered.

"Awful," Cinder replied bluntly. "Somehow worse than anything that's come before. Worse than any of our usual redistribution symptoms."

Pyra frowned as she adjusted her robes. "That's strange. I felt wonderful throughout the process. All warm and cozy. I kind of wanted to sleep."

"Same here," Kindle confirmed. "I felt like I was on a relaxing vacation somewhere peaceful. Never felt stress like that before."

"So the problem is entirely on the receiving end," Ash concluded. She pressed a hand to her temple. "Those being integrated feel fine. Those containing the integrated personalities suffer."

The four Mnemosynes had gathered during the reconstitution process, their aged faces showing clear signs of concern.

"This pattern concerns us," Isra said slowly. "Based on our preserved knowledge, conscious integration should become easier with practice, not more difficult."

"But we've only tried it twice," Pyra protested. "Maybe we just need more experience."

"The escalating symptoms suggest otherwise," Rinzai replied. "Your description of increasing distress indicates fundamental resistance to the process."

"Resistance from what?" Ash asked. "Us, or some external factor?"

The Mnemosynes exchanged weighty glances before Endymion replied.

"From the nature of your fragmentation itself. What you describe as a curse may include mechanisms specifically designed to prevent reintegration."

The chamber fell silent except for the soft crackling of oil lamps and Spark's contented breathing from his position near the entrance.

"You think our curse includes a deterrent to unifying our power?" Cinder asked, breaking the contemplative stillness.

"The evidence suggests your condition includes more than simple consciousness division. The fact that single integration produces manageable symptoms while dual integration causes escalating distress implies deliberate limitations."

"Limitations imposed by the original curse," Isra added. "If your fragmentation was intentional, the creator may have included mechanisms to ensure its permanence."

Ember felt something cold settle in her stomach. They'd assumed the curse was simply a matter of consciousness division—unpleasant but ultimately correctable through proper understanding and technique.

The possibility that it included active resistance to integration changed everything.

"So what does this mean for our options going forward?" Kindle asked.

"We have no simple answers," Rinzai said, his voice carrying an undercurrent of rare frustration. "Your situation may exceed our knowledge."

"It means," Endymion said gently, as though sensing their distress, "that caution is advised. Further attempts at multiple integration may pose unacceptably high risks."

"Great," Cinder murmured, the word slipping out into the silence. "One more complication in a neat package full."

Isra's expression reflected more empathy than usual. "Curses, even powerful ones, follow certain principles. If we can understand the mechanisms maintaining your fragmentation, we might find ways to circumvent them."

"In the meantime," Rinzai added, "further experimentation requires extreme care. Multiple integrations could trigger responses from your curse beyond your ability to counter."

"What are our options, then?" Ash asked, pushing aside any visible signs of fatigue.

"For now, focus on consolidating your progress and gaining proficiency with single integrations," Endymion replied. "Harmonic Integration requires less of your personal resources than forced death-resurrection cycles. The experience will be valuable, even if we avoid multiple integrations until we better understand your unique situation."

After a pause, Isra added with her customary bluntness, "Continue progressing as you are. We will seek deeper understanding of your curse and explore potential strategies for circumventing its inherent limitations."

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