"Alright, round five," Pyra announced with considerably less enthusiasm than she'd shown during their first attempts at integration experiments. "Who's volunteering to be temporarily non-existent this time?"

They'd been at the monastery for over a week now, and what had started as exciting exploration of new abilities had gradually transformed into methodical documentation of uncomfortable limitations. The training chamber felt smaller somehow, its stone walls seeming to press inward with the weight of accumulated disappointment.

"My turn," Cinder said, settling onto her cushion with the resigned air of someone approaching an unpleasant but necessary medical procedure. "Though I vote we stick to single integration again. Yesterday's dual attempt left me feeling like someone had been using my skull for hammer practice."

"Seconded," Ember agreed, rubbing her temples at the memory. "We've established that two integrations simultaneously is a bad idea. Let's focus on understanding why single integration seems to have its own timing quirks."

Ash nodded from her position across the circle. "The reconstitution delay patterns are interesting. When it's just one of us integrated, we need the full twenty-four hour cycle. But yesterday, with both Kindle and Pyra integrated, we could bring them back after six hours."

"Six hours exactly," Kindle confirmed. "And the headaches started getting worse right around that point, like our bodies were telling us it was time to fix the imbalance."

Spark had claimed his usual position near the chamber entrance, though lately he'd taken to watching their experiments with what looked suspiciously like concern. The salamander's scales had been shifting between colors more frequently, as though he was picking up on stress they didn't realize they were broadcasting.

"The timing correlation suggests your systems are actively regulating the integration process," Endymion observed from his position against the chamber wall.

The Mnemosynes had taken to simply observing their experiments rather than actively participating, apparently having learned as much as they could from direct involvement.

"Regulating how?" Cinder asked, though she was already beginning the mental preparation for voluntary dissolution.

"Unknown," Isra admitted. "But the pattern is consistent. The more vessels that are empty, the more urgently your consciousness seems to demand their restoration."

"Like a safety mechanism," Ash mused. "Preventing us from staying reduced for too long."

"Or," Rinzai suggested quietly, "preventing you from moving too far away from your current equilibrium state."

Cinder's integration proceeded smoothly, her consciousness dispersing into the remaining four with the controlled grace they'd all learned to achieve. The familiar sensation of enhanced power settled over Ember like a well-worn coat, accompanied by the predictable mild headache and muscle tension.

"Four-person configuration achieved," Pyra announced unnecessarily, stretching her arms above her head. "Standard redistribution symptoms: check. Mild discomfort that we know will fade by evening: check. Cinder's dry sense of humor now residing somewhere behind my left ear: also check."

"Your left ear has excellent taste," Kindle observed, earning a snort of laughter from Ash.

They spent the morning monitoring their symptoms and energy levels, documenting the subtle changes that occurred during single integration. By midday, the worst of the redistribution effects had faded to background noise.

"Interesting," Ash said, making notes in the journal they'd started keeping. "Four-person configuration seems completely sustainable. We could probably maintain this indefinitely without serious discomfort."

"Wanna test that theory?" Ember asked.

"Let's try an extended period," Kindle agreed. "See how long we can comfortably remain integrated before reconstituting Cinder."

"Oh, goodie," Pyra murmured. "You hear that, Cinder-in-all-our-heads? You just got volunteered for extended non-existence."

The afternoon stretched into the evening with minimal change in their condition. The enhanced power levels felt natural rather than strained, and the mild headaches they'd experienced initially had dwindled to insignificant annoyances.

"Should we try bringing Cinder back tonight, or wait until tomorrow morning?" Kindle asked.

"Let's wait," Ash suggested. "See if the symptoms change overnight, or if we can just sustain like this indefinitely."

Morning brought an unexpected development. Ember awoke with a piercing headache, a jolt of discomfort that yanked her brutally back into wakefulness like a splash of ice water to the face.

"Ow," she muttered, pressing fingertips against her closed eyelids. The gesture helped alleviate some of the outward pressure but did nothing for the deeper pain that throbbed insistently inside her skull.

"That's strange," Ash's voice sounded equally strained. "I thought we were past the headaches."

Ember cracked open one eye to find her sister-selves in similar positions around the room, wincing and rubbing temples with grimaces of discomfort.

"Hey, hold up," Pyra protested, pushing herself up onto her elbows. "We were fine yesterday. Why does this feel like the dual integration hangover, but worse?"

They struggled upright, exchanging perplexed looks. None of their previous symptoms had predicted this level of discomfort.

"Maybe reconstitution needs to happen at a particular time, and we missed the window?" Kindle suggested.

"So what, our timing is off by like... twelve hours, and we get hammered like this?" Pyra asked, her sarcasm muted by obvious pain.

"Could be another factor," Ember admitted, gingerly testing her own range of motion. The mild stiffness they'd all felt in their muscles yesterday seemed tighter, as if she'd been pushing herself too hard.

"We're due to check in with the Mnemosynes about now," Ash pointed out. "We can ask them what they think."

They began to dress, Ash wincing and muttering "ow" under her breath every time she moved too quickly.

"If this is a delayed consequence of going too long without bringing Cinder back, I'm going to be pretty ticked off," Pyra grumbled, gingerly shrugging into her tunic.

Together they staggered out to the training chamber, where three of their Mnemosyne instructors waited. The unnamed elder—whose features and presence had grown increasingly familiar even without the benefit of a personal moniker—looked up at their arrival.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Welcome, all—excepting Cinder, whom we presume to be integrated. You continue to test endurance limits?"

"The limit seems to have tested us," Ash admitted. "We woke up with severe headaches and joint stiffness. We were hoping you'd have some insights."

Endymion frowned. "This pattern implies underlying factors resisting prolonged integrations. Beyond what we already understand of your curse's demands."

"We were fine the first day," Kindle insisted. "This only hit overnight."

Rinzai exchanged a glance with his companions before speaking. "It may be that integration's intensity has a maximum duration. Continuing beyond that triggers escalating consequences."

"Or the curse has its own opinion about how long we should remain in any given configuration," Ember muttered, pressing fingertips to her forehead again in a vain attempt to ease the stabbing pain there.

"Whatever it is, we need to bring Cinder back," Ash said. "Soon."

The four women began the ritual of reconstitution, hands joined to pool their enhanced power into the vortex that would re-establish Cinder's lost body. But this time, instead of the soft blue flames Ember had come to expect, the energies of resurrection flared violently upward.

The fiery column surged with an intensity that staggered the four of them, and for an instant the chamber swam around Ember before resolving into the sudden rush of released power.

Cinder's form reappeared in a shower of fiery sparks that stung against Ember's skin as they winked out. The intense heat dissipated, Cinder's familiar features settling into view with a puzzled scowl that reflected her own confusion.

"What the...? That did not feel like a standard resurrection." Cinder stood, cautiously testing her restored balance.

"Definitely not," Ember agreed. "The whole process felt off this time."

"Maybe because we waited too long to bring you back?" Pyra suggested.

Endymion and Rinzai approached, concern evident in their postures. Endymion extended a hand toward Cinder, palm out, in the gesture they'd come to recognize as his request for permission to scan someone. Cinder hesitated for a moment before nodding.

Endymion's eyes went distant, then snapped back into focus with evident surprise. He murmured something to Rinzai before turning his attention to the entire group.

"You show no signs of suffering from the process, Cinder," Endymion began, "which is... unexpected, given what we understand of your current circumstances."

"That's good, at least," Ember said cautiously, torn between relief that Cinder appeared unharmed and a nagging suspicion that anything that surprised their Mnemosyne mentors was unlikely to be simple.

"What's the downside?" Cinder asked bluntly, unconsciously echoing Ember's own thoughts.

"There may not be one. The aftermath of this resurrection appears consistent with your previous experiences in terms of essence redistribution," Rinzai said.

"But?" Cinder pressed, folding her arms.

The unnamed elder, who'd observed the process in silence, chose then to speak. "But your curse is more sophisticated than we initially believed. What we observed isn't simple consciousness fragmentation—it's active enforcement of a specific configuration."

"So, you're saying the curse wants us to stay at five people," Pyra said, voicing what they'd all been thinking.

"Precisely," the elder confirmed. "Or more accurately, it resists any attempt to move too far from that state."

"I guess the headaches were a hint," Ember admitted, the lingering pain behind her eyes abating only slowly now that Cinder had rejoined them.

"So what does this mean for our long-term prospects?" Cinder asked. "Are we permanently stuck as five people?"

"Not necessarily," Isra replied, though her tone carried notes of caution. "Understanding the mechanisms of your curse is the first step toward potentially circumventing them. But attempting to force integration beyond your current limits could have catastrophic consequences."

"Define catastrophic," Ash said quietly.

"Complete consciousness collapse," Endymion replied bluntly. "If your curse is designed to maintain a specific state, attempting to unify yourselves entirely..."

He didn't need to finish the statement. They all understood the implications.

"The curse might destroy us entirely rather than allow complete reintegration," Kindle said quietly.

"Wonderful." Cinder sighed, rubbing at her still-tense shoulder muscles.

Isra and Rinzai shared a long, silent look before she spoke. "Further multiple integration trials are too dangerous. Given this new understanding of your curse's nature, we recommend against pursuing the possibility for now. The risks are too great."

Ember nodded slowly, reluctantly conceding their point. "So what do we do now? We've learned how to do Harmonic Integration, but if going past two-at-a-time is out, what's our next move?"

"Now you return to your lives with better understanding of your capabilities and limitations," Endymion replied, his voice carrying notes of compassion and reassurance. "Knowledge provides an advantage—a chance to turn your curse to your purpose rather than merely existing within its constraints."

"Or find a way to break it," Ash murmured.

"If such means exist," Rinzai conceded. "Take what you've learned, test it, hone it. In doing so, you may discover facets we cannot."

Endymion dipped his head in acknowledgment of Rinzai's words. "Every curse, no matter how sophisticated, operates according to specific principles. If you can identify those principles..."

"We might find loopholes," Ash finished. "Ways to achieve unity that don't trigger the curse's defensive responses."

"Or," Rinzai suggested, "you might find that your current state offers advantages you haven't yet discovered. Five perspectives, five different approaches to problems, five different ways of understanding the world—these things have value."

That evening, as they prepared for their departure from the monastery, Ember paused beside Cinder, who was absorbed in her meticulous inventory of their traveling gear. The stark stone walls of the small, cell-like room seemed somehow less oppressive now that they'd spent time here, as though their shared presence had softened the severity of the space.

It felt cozy in an odd way, and Ember understood the appeal of a simple life lived in service to study and reflection.

"They really believe it's hopeless, don't they?" Ember mused, breaking the companionable silence. "Breaking the curse. Being our whole self again."

Cinder shrugged, the gesture unconsciously stiff. The soreness had faded throughout the day, but its ghost seemed to linger in her movements.

"Whether they believe it or not doesn't change our reality. Either the curse can be broken, or it can't. Our choice is how we respond, not whether we'll be successful."

"I guess we can't expect them to tell us what's possible when they're still learning about our situation," Ember conceded. "But they're counting on us to apply what we've learned, aren't they?"

"Use the curse as a tool instead of seeing it as a handicap," Cinder said, nodding.

Ember leaned against the rough stone wall, arms crossed. "What if it's both? What if we could turn it to our advantage, but also find a way to break it?"

Cinder finished packing her belongings and sat on the bed, regarding Ember with her typical stoic expression.

"If we ever want to be Abigail again, whole in body and mind, we'll have to risk the impossible, won't we? No matter what the Mnemosynes have told us."

The others entered the room as if drawn by their quiet conversation. Pyra flopped down on the bed opposite Cinder, while Kindle perched at its foot. Ash claimed a stool near the door.

"We're not giving up, are we?" Pyra asked, her voice tinged with uncharacteristic concern.

"No," Ember said firmly. "We're not."

Ash nodded. "Understanding our limitations doesn't mean we stop seeking a solution. With all the magic and resources this world has to offer... there must be a way to break this curse."

Kindle sighed. "So, we go back to asking the Magisterium to study our situation? See if they can learn anything the Mnemosynes can't?"

"Not particularly keen on being a test subject again," Cinder muttered.

Ember straightened and pushed off the wall. "They promised not to poke and prod us anymore. We're 'Exalted' now, remember? We're partners, not specimens. So no more tests."

"Back to Amaranth, then," Pyra declared, swinging her legs off the side of the bed. "Pick up with the Adventurer's Guild. Do some jobs—earn some clink to fund our search for answers."

"We might have to let them in on our little secret. Being from another reality and all that," Ash said carefully.

Ember nodded. "Maybe. Let's play that one by ear. No need to rush into things, especially if it means getting caught up in more bureaucracy. Right now, we've got tools they need, and they've got resources we can use."

"Balance of power," Cinder acknowledged. "At least for now."

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