OPERATION WINTERSPINE (Strings Between Us Book 2)

CHAPTER SEVEN: OF THE HEART, THE SIGIL, AND THE CROWN

Everyone paused. Keryn rarely just makes something. She opened a black case in front of her. Inside—nine sets of accessories, each nested in crushed velvet and low-pulse containment foam.

"Pulse-link tech. Headmaster Lazaro approved. He already knew about this. I also informed Headmaster Antonio," she said. "This is different from the Tri-Havoc's link. These are tactical. They'll sync us during missions, battle, and debriefing. Fully encrypted. One-way sync to Tri-Havoc only. No connection to the old links."

Saichel grinned. "We're getting new ones?" Keryn nodded.

"Yes. You three will get new ones."

She started handing them out. Seb got a leather strap with a layered trap-circuit coil woven underneath. Tofer's was a dual ear-clip design, curved to rest behind the helix of both ears—quiet, invisible, deadly. Alexie's wrist cuffs shimmered with embedded veil disruptors. Thres received a reinforced pulse-bracelet, padded and thick like a riot-band.

Keryn turned to Ari next, her voice steady. "Ari—yours is the Artemis Collar."

She opened a velvet-lined case, revealing a matte orichalcum choker—slim but unyielding, its glacial silver threads pulsing softly beneath the surface like a quiet hunter's heartbeat.

No clasp. Just pressure-sensitive microseals. A weapon disguised as elegance.

"It's not just pulse-tech," Keryn explained. "This connects you to everyone—but only two-way with Tri-Havoc and Lyle. The rest of us? One-way only. You'll hear our pulse patterns, micro-emotion spikes, tactical bursts—but we won't hear yours. You stay ahead. You decide what we need to know."

Ari didn't flinch. She lifted the collar with two fingers and locked eyes with Keryn. "Understood."

The collar sealed around her neck with a muted click—like a promise. Or a warning.

Keryn didn't pause. She turned to Saichel. "Yours is The Jester's Spine."

She held up what looked like a vertical strip of eight interlocking spine plates, silver-black in color—almost bone-like, almost mechanical. Each vertebra glowed faintly at the edge, but in different hues. Red. Blue. Violet. Gold. Rose. Ice white. Obsidian. Pink. One for each of us. "This isn't an anklet anymore,"

Keryn said. "It anchors to your back—right beneath the line of your shoulder blades. Adhesive micro-weld. Each plate links to a Court member. When they're synced, that vertebra lights up in their color. That means they're active."

"And when they're not?" Saichel asked, tilting his head. "They vanish," Keryn said.

"Emotion spikes will ripple through this chain. Yours is the only link that surges feedback. If one of us falters on the field—you'll feel it. And you'll be the first to twist the chaos back into control."

Saichel grinned and flipped the strip through his fingers, watching the plates shimmer. "This might be the most beautiful spine I've ever worn."

Keryn didn't even blink. "Don't bend it. It'll react violently if you lie with it active."

"Then I guess I'll have to behave," he said—and everyone knew he wouldn't.

She turned to me next. "Xythe—yours is The Aether's Mirror Monocle."

I already knew it was mine the moment the blue static flared. Keryn handed over a curved optical overlay—like a fragmented mirror etched with lines of starlight. It wasn't built to look elegant. It was built to see through illusions. Right-eye interface. Tactical filters. Thermal tracking. Emotion overlays. Pulse trails. A tactician's second brain—masquerading as an accessory.

"This connects you to Lyle and Tri-Havoc—two-way," she said. "For the rest of us? One-way only. You observe. You command. You intervene."

I slid it over my eye. The interface flared to life—silent and clean. In the corner of my vision, pulses began to bloom like constellations.

Keryn turned back to the case, then picked up the last object. She crossed to Lyle and placed it in his palm. "This is yours," she said. "CrownSigil: The Monarch's Ring. I love you. That's why I got you a ring."

It was obsidian-veined orichalcum, laced with faint rune markers around the band—each marking a Court member's crest. The Heart. The Tactician. The Shield. The Ghost. The Architect. The Investigator. The Wildcard. The Media Storm. And at the center—his own. The Crown.

Seb muttered under his breath, "Cringe."

Keryn didn't care.

"This will receive pulse signals from all of us," she said, "but only Tri-Havoc and you get two-way control. The rest of us stay silent unless you allow it. If we fall apart—you put us back together."

Lyle studied the ring in his palm like it was both weapon and weight. Then slipped it onto his right index finger.

I watch his fingers close around it, slow and certain. And for a moment—just a flicker—I see doubt cross his face. Not fear. Not weakness. Just... the cost. Because now we're linked. One slip. One break. And it's not just Khaizer who shatters. It's all of us.

No one says anything. The light flickers across the war table. Nine pulse-links. Nine artifacts. Nine weapons with hearts attached.

The silence that follows is no longer empty. It's alive. Waiting.

This table? It used to be for war.

But tonight—it became an altar. And these pulse-links? Not just weapons. They're vows. Oaths wrapped in steel and silence.

And we? We aren't just soldiers. We are the kingdom. We are the reckoning.

And this? This is how revolutions begin. Not with explosions. With names. With choices. With promises too heavy to speak aloud.

And maybe—just maybe—with one tactician finally realizing that protecting someone isn't always the same as letting them go.