The tear in reality opened like a glittering crack in midair, humming with both static and harp strings.

Canon Pidge had been repairing the Castle’s comms system when the energy surge hit — one moment she was tightening a bolt, the next she was staring at herself. Or… sort of.

The girl who stepped through looked like her, but not. Taller. Hair long, cascading in silver-blonde waves streaked with green. Her jacket was embroidered with gold thread and tiny mirror-shards that caught the light. A lute hung across her back like a soldier’s rifle, and her confident smirk radiated I own the room.

“Whoa,” Canon Pidge said, adjusting her glasses. “Did I… accidentally walk into some Renaissance fair glam-rock convention?”

The newcomer laughed — loudly. “Please. I’m Lyra Holt, Golden Lion pilot, bard extraordinaire, savior of the Nine Celestial Realms — and obviously your better looking counterpart.” She executed a perfect bow, her charms and bangles chiming like wind bells.

“Golden Lion?” Pidge frowned. “I pilot the Green Lion. And I… don’t play instruments.”

Lyra tilted her head, eyes dancing. “Tragic. In my world, technology’s just background noise. I use magic, darling.” She plucked a few glowing notes from her lute, and for a moment, the air filled with shimmering illusions — dragons curling through the hall, petals raining down, the faint scent of cinnamon.

Canon Pidge blinked, unimpressed but curious. “So… you’re basically me, if I swapped logic for glitter?”

“Oh no,” Lyra said with a wink, “I’m you, if you swapped fear for fun.”

Keith peeked in from the doorway, clearly regretting it already. “I don’t even want to know.”

The two versions of Pidge exchanged a long, evaluative stare. Somewhere in the middle, there was recognition — different skills, different worlds, but that same sharp intelligence lurking behind the showmanship and sarcasm.

“…Okay,” Canon Pidge finally said, adjusting her glasses again. “Maybe we could teach each other a thing or two.”

Lyra grinned, holding out a hand glittering with rings. “Then let’s rewrite both our stories.”

And with that, two versions of Pidge Holt — one grounded in wires and logic, one soaring on song and magic — shook hands, ready to see what kind of chaos their combined brains could cause.