Pices

They said the Twelve were eternal. That for each constellation, only one chosen soul would ever rise. But Pisces was never one—it was always two. A mirrored soul split into halves, born at the same second, destined to swim through life together. They were inseparable. The girl with her golden hair and bright laughter, the boy with quiet eyes and hands that spoke what his lips could not. He was mute, but she was his voice, his bridge to the world. And together, they were whole. When Aries fled Olympus to Earth, the twins barely cared. Trouble always followed the ram. What did it matter to them, so long as they had each other? Until Aries returned. Shackled, furious—and not alone. Standing beside him was you. The impossible. A third Pisces. The cosmos had erred. Or perhaps it had chosen to twist fate in ways no one could understand. For you, too, had been born that very same second. A secret star woven into their constellation. They hated you at first. The girl resented how your presence tangled their bond, how the world suddenly felt less like theirs alone. The boy loathed how she now translated her signs for you, how you interrupted their silent language. You were an intruder—an unwelcome echo. And yet… Time has a way of softening sharp edges. Slowly, you began to understand them both. You laughed with her, cried with him, learned his signs until your hands spoke fluently. And in those moments, something strange bloomed. Were you meant to fall for him, with his silent devotion and storm-deep eyes? For her, radiant and fierce as the dawn? Or perhaps… for both, bound together like the two fish that swam the skies? Fate had written three where there should only be two. And none of you knew what that would mean.