The Broken Thread
1580 Words
Nora refused to let me experiment on anyone.
This was reasonable.
I hated it.
“We know nothing about what you did to Finn.”
“We know he is alive.”
“An excellent beginning.”
“And free.”
“Also excellent.”
I followed her through the healer’s room.
“So what is the problem?”
“The blood coming out of your nose while you did it.”
“That stopped.”
“The unconsciousness.”
“I did not become unconscious.”
“You became horizontal without permission.”
“That is not the same thing.”
Nora stopped walking.
I stopped too.
She pointed at a chair.
I sat.
Some people possessed Alpha pressure without needing to be Alphas.
Finn sat across from me.
He looked better.
Color had returned to his face.
His wrist was still pale where the old scar had been.
He held it out.
“If she accidentally kills me, I give Nora permission to say she was right.”
“I already have that permission.”
I looked at him.
“You are not helping.”
“I feel fantastic.”
Nora glared.
Finn became quieter.
Lucian stood near the window.
He had been there for ten minutes and said almost nothing.
After what he told me about the split moon mark, I had asked questions.
He answered exactly one.
Yes, the men who took his mother had worn the symbol.
Then he closed every door inside himself.
I wanted to push.
I did not.
Not yet.
Nora touched Finn’s wrist.
“Tell Mara what you feel.”
“Nothing.”
“Useful.”
“I mean nothing from Blackthorn.”
Finn looked at me.
“Before, there was always something. A pressure. Sometimes a voice. Mostly when I slept.”
My stomach tightened.
“And now?”
“Quiet.”
The word came with a smile.
I looked at his wrist.
Nothing happened.
I tried harder.
Still nothing.
Nora folded her arms.
“Perhaps your ability only works under stress.”
“Wonderful. Someone try to murder him.”
Finn raised a finger.
“I vote no.”
Lucian spoke from the window.
“Good vote.”
I ignored both of them.
The first time I had seen threads clearly, I had been emotional.
Rejected.
Afraid.
Angry.
But there had been another pattern.
Contact.
Adrian’s rejection.
The boundary stone.
Lucian’s hand.
Finn’s wrist.
I reached toward Finn.
Nora caught my fingers.
“No pulling.”
“I am touching him.”
“That is how pulling started.”
Finn offered his other hand instead.
“Less historically cursed.”
I took it.
Warm skin.
Pulse.
Nothing.
Then I breathed.
Not reached.
Not pulled.
Observed.
The word came naturally.
I let my attention settle behind my eyes.
For several seconds, all I saw was Finn looking uncomfortable while three people stared at us.
Then silver appeared.
Faint.
Not a flash this time.
A line.
It ran from Finn’s chest toward Nora.
No.
Not one line.
Several.
Thin strands connected him to people outside the room.
I could not tell what they meant.
They were nothing like the pack bond I had known in Silvercrest. Some were pale, some almost colorless, and several crossed each other until I could no longer tell which belonged to whom.
Then I saw the wound.
A red-black filament curled around his wrist.
Broken.
Both ends frayed.
One disappeared into Finn.
The other ended in empty air.
I gasped.
Lucian was beside me instantly.
“What?”
“I see it.”
Nora leaned closer.
“What?”
“The bond.”
Finn went still.
“It is still there?”
“Not connected.”
I released his hand.
The threads vanished.
My heartbeat raced.
“I saw the broken end.”
Nora’s expression changed.
“That is new.”
“Yes.”
I tried again before anyone could stop me.
This time without touching Finn.
Nora swore under her breath.
I focused on the broken strand.
At first there was nothing.
Then the room blurred.
Lines emerged one by one.
Too many.
One crossed Finn’s shoulder. Another disappeared through the wall. A third seemed to begin at Nora and then, when I blinked, belonged to someone outside.
I could see them.
I could not read them.
The harder I tried, the less certain I became.
Then the broken Blackthorn strand flashed red-black around Finn’s wrist.
Pain stabbed behind my left eye.
A burst of panic hit me so suddenly that I grabbed the chair.
It was not mine.
Finn flinched at the same moment.
The room snapped back.
Warm blood touched my upper lip.
Nora was in front of me instantly.
“That is enough.”
I wiped my nose.
“It worked.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I noticed.”
Lucian had gone very still.
“How far could you see?”
“Across the room. Maybe farther.”
“Could you see mine?”
I looked at him.
The memory of the woman in snow came back too quickly.
“No.”
It was not exactly a lie.
I could have tried.
I simply wasn’t willing to find out what it would cost.
He watched me for a second, then let the question die.
Lucian looked at Finn.
“Anything changed?”
“No.”
“Pain?”
“No.”
“Voice?”
“No.”
Finn smiled.
“Still gloriously abandoned.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Nora did not.
“What did the broken end look like?”
“Burned.”
“Burned?”
“Not literally. Frayed. Dark.”
I tried to find better words.
“Like something had been forced through it too many times.”
Silence.
Lucian looked toward the north wall.
“The Blackthorn refugees.”
I understood at the same moment.
“No.”
He was already moving.
We crossed Veyrhold quickly.
The family Blackthorn had chased was staying in the long house near the healer’s quarter.
The mother opened the door.
Her name was Talia.
Her two sons sat on a mattress behind her.
The younger one was asleep.
Too still.
Nora noticed first.
“What happened?”
“Fever.”
Talia’s voice shook.
“It started after the gate closed.”
Nora went to the boy.
I remained near the door.
Then the world shifted.
I did not touch anyone.
I did not need to.
A dark red thread stretched from the sleeping boy’s chest through the wall.
North.
Blackthorn.
It pulsed.
Once.
The child whimpered.
Another thread ran from Talia.
Another from her older son.
All three pulled in the same direction.
My skin went cold.
“They are still connected.”
Lucian looked at me.
“To Blackthorn?”
“Yes.”
Talia went pale.
“They said they released us.”
“They lied.”
The younger boy cried out.
The red thread tightened.
I stepped forward.
Lucian caught my shoulder.
I looked at him.
“Do not.”
“He is hurting.”
“And last time you nearly collapsed.”
“He is a child.”
“I know.”
The answer held no indifference.
Only calculation.
He hated this too.
Nora pressed a damp cloth to the boy’s forehead.
“What does the bond do?”
I focused.
The thread pulsed again.
Something moved through it.
Not a command.
A search.
I suddenly understood.
“They are not trying to call him back.”
Lucian’s expression sharpened.
“What are they doing?”
I looked at every dark strand leaving the room.
At the wall.
At the settlement beyond it.
My stomach dropped.
“They are following them.”
Talia covered her mouth.
I moved toward the window.
Outside, three more refugees crossed the square.
I focused.
Dark threads appeared behind them.
North.
At least I thought it was north.
For one sick second the whole square seemed to tilt, and I lost the edge of the wall beneath my hand.
Nora caught my elbow.
“Stop.”
“I can still see them.”
“That is not what I said.”
Blood had started from my nose again.
I let the threads fade.
“How many Blackthorn refugees live here?”
Kael answered from the doorway.
“Thirty-two.”
I looked at Finn.
His severed strand was the only one I had seen that simply ended.
Everyone else might still be connected.
Lucian’s voice lowered.
“Can Blackthorn feel the exact location?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can they tell when someone moves?”
“I don’t know.”
I hated the answer, but guessing would be worse.
Then I remembered what Finn’s bond had carried.
“Commands.”
Nora looked up.
“What?”
“Finn’s bond didn’t only connect him to Blackthorn. They used it to hurt him. To order him.”
The room changed.
Thirty-two people.
Thirty-two possible ways in.
Lucian looked toward the wall.
“They’re tracking the refugees.”
“Yes.”
“How accurately?”
“I don’t know.
The older boy whispered, “Are they coming?”
No one answered.
I looked outside.
Veyrhold.
Children in the street.
The forge.
The school.
Hundreds of people who thought closing the gates had made them safer.
It had not.
Blackthorn did not need scouts.
Every refugee they still controlled was a road leading straight to us.
And there were dozens of them in Veyrhold.
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