The Threads Between Worlds

The Pact Forgotten

The moment Ariya said the word pact, Mira’s head began to ache—sharp and sudden, like a blade slicing through fog.

She stumbled back from the table, clutching her temple. Visions flashed behind her eyes:

A vast obsidian door floating in a void of stars.

A voice promising, “When the time comes, you’ll find me between the beats of the world.”

And her own hand, glowing with the very symbol now marked on her skin, reaching out… to his.

Then—blackness.

When she opened her eyes, she was on the floor. Ariya and Jalen knelt beside her.

“What did you see?” Ariya asked gently.

“I… I made a pact with him. The Doorwalker. I was in another place. Not a dream—before this life.”

Jalen’s brow furrowed. “A soul contract?”

Ariya nodded solemnly. “Yes. But deeper. Some contracts are written in agreement. Others… in sacrifice.”

Mira swallowed. “I don’t remember the terms.”

“You will,” Ariya said. “But first, you need protection. Once a Threadborn starts to awaken, the Cutters try to stop the recall. They feed on broken memory, and they fear those who can restore the Loom.”

She moved to a locked cabinet, pulling out a small vial of oil and a silver pendant shaped like an eye wrapped in thread.

“This will shield your energy. For a time.”

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That night, Mira returned home feeling like reality was stretching thin. Lights flickered. Sounds felt delayed, like echoes from another dimension.

She lit a single candle and sat with the book.

More pages had filled in—entire lines now, not just symbols:

“To find the Doorwalker, follow the thread of pain.”

“Where you lost yourself, you will find him waiting.”

Mira’s hand trembled.

Where had she lost herself?

A sudden, sharp noise shattered the silence.

The mirror in her hallway cracked—no impact, no cause. Just a single, clean line down the center.

She rose slowly, heart pounding.

And then she saw it.

In the reflection, behind her—just for a breath—stood a figure. No face. Cloaked in black threads that writhed like smoke.

Not the Doorwalker.

A Cutter.

Her candle extinguished on its own.

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