The room feels charged the moment you realize you’re the center of attention.

You sit against Diamondheart, her crystalline form cool and steady beneath you. There’s a faint vibration through her body, like a quiet pulse of energy, grounding you despite everything else going on. Her surface is impossibly smooth, almost glass-like, but not fragile—solid, unyielding.

Around you, the others close in slightly.

The glowing one to your left radiates a gentle, constant heat. It brushes against your skin like sunlight, carrying a faint scent of something sweet and singed, like caramel just on the edge of burning. She watches with a playful expression.

Behind you, one of the taller figures shifts, the motion soft and controlled. There’s a sterile, almost metallic scent in the air around her, like ozone after a spark.

And then, the one in the back right—lean, sharp, with a sleek, dark form and glowing eyes—tilts her head, clearly already suspicious of what’s coming.

Diamondheart raises a hand slightly.

“I need a calculation,” she says calmly.

The others glance at her, then at each other.

The one in the back right narrows her eyes. “Why do I feel like I’m about to be volunteered?”

Diamondheart doesn’t hesitate. “Because you are.”

A pause.

“…Excuse me?”

“How many days until they turn eighteen,” Diamondheart continues, gesturing lightly toward you. “Work it out.”

The glowing one snickers under her breath, light flickering brighter.

“Oh, this should be fun.”

The tall one behind you crosses her arms. “She’s going to overcomplicate it.”

“I am not,” the back-right one snaps, straightening up. “It’s basic math.”

Diamondheart gives a small, knowing smile. “Then go on.”

There’s a brief silence as she processes it… then exhales sharply.

“Fine. Years to days… 365 per year…” she mutters, starting to pace. “But that depends how many years are left… and leap years…”

She pauses mid-step.

“…Do I include leap years?”

“Of course you include leap years,” the tall one says flatly.

“That changes everything!”

The glowing one laughs openly now, warmth intensifying slightly. “It really doesn’t.”

Meanwhile, you’re still right there in the middle of it all.

The cool firmness of Diamondheart beneath you contrasts with the warmth at your side and the faint electric tension in the air. Every movement, every voice feels amplified this close.

Diamondheart leans in just a little, her voice quieter now.

“She’ll figure it out,” she says.

From behind:

“WAIT—HOW MANY LEAP YEARS ARE THERE IN THAT SPAN?!” the back-right one calls out.

Diamondheart closes her eyes briefly, a hint of amusement slipping through.

“…Eventually.”