The Threads Begin
1071 Words
She found him again—this time weaving through shadows like he belonged to them.
The Hollow Market was breathing heavy tonight, its air thick with incense, sweat, and secrets. Lanterns swayed like drunken stars and whispers slipped between alleyways like water. Nayara’s boots barely made a sound on the stone floor as she caught up to him, cloak whipping behind her in a rush of nerves and fate.
"Please–wait" he didn't answer.
“Renji!” she called, already winded.
He stopped walking. Turning to her.
Nayara. Cloaked, panting, eyes eild with panic. Her hands glowing faintly the air bending around her.
“I need your help!” she pressed, jogging up beside him.
“I’m not cheap,” he muttered without looking.
“Good,” she said with a breathless grin. “I’m not broke.”
That made him smirk. But he still didn’t stop.
They walked through a narrow street tucked behind the Hollow Market stalls—a place known as the Alley of Hollow Echoes, where sounds didn’t bounce back and time always felt a little too slow.
She kept pace. Talking, jumping between thoughts like stars in a constellation only she could see.
“There’s this jungle—like, walls of green—alive green. I saw it in my dreams. There’s a boy there. And a girl in a crystal mountain. And one in the desert. And Lucien—we have to save him first.”
“Who?”
“The light bender from the temple. The one trapped with—” she cut herself off, eyes narrowing. “You’re not listening.”
Renji had slowed, scanning the rooftops.
“I’m always listening,” he said, “but I don’t like what I hear.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, spinning to match his line of sight.
He crouched slightly and plucked a waxy, dark plant from the alley wall—Gutter Ivy, its veins pulsing faintly green.
“What’s that for?” she asked.
“You talk too much,” he said, not unkindly. “Too fast. This muffles sound. Cloaks our presence.”
“From what?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached up and tucked a sprig of Gutter Ivy behind her ear. His fingers brushed her cheek. She stilled.
Then she saw them.
Tether Cats. Long-bodied, furless, with bioluminescent spots along their backs and glowing whip-like tails curled into hooks. At least four of them. Watching from the beams. From the shadows. From behind the stalls.
“What… what are those?” she whispered.
“They’re soul-trackers,” Renji murmured, tying a sprig to his wrist. “They latch onto a scent, a frequency in your aura. Someone’s looking for you.”
Nayara’s lips parted. “I don’t—no one would be looking for me…”
Renji paused. “Then maybe they’re not looking for you.”
She swallowed hard. “How far can they track?”
“As far as their master tells them to go.”
They stood there in the silence. Cats circling. Whispers gathering like a tide.
Nayara closed her eyes. “No time.”
Her hands moved—an elegant weave—and the air shimmered, turning silver and colorless. The alley fell away, and the world around them bled into stillness.
She looked back at him, a trace of guilt in her voice. “I’m taking you with me.”
He raised a brow. “To where, exactly?”
“Solstice Mountain.”
His grin returned, sharp and cocky. “Don’t even have a plan, do you?”
“Nope,” she said. “We’re gonna sneak in and save a boy we don’t know, from a fate we can’t name, with powers we barely understand.”
“Sounds fun,” Renji replied, stepping into the void beside her.
They didn’t walk in time—they walked beside it.
The realm they traveled through was soft and pulsing, like drifting through folds of breath. Moments passed them like echoes, and just ahead, Lucien’s thread glowed faintly.
They followed it up the mountainside—past lanterns and snowfall and spires glowing with sacred light.
“He’s with someone,” Nayara said, her voice suddenly quiet.
They stopped at the edge of a memory. A pale boy. A golden-robed man beside him. A wine bottle glinting amber in the carriage lanterns. Renji’s jaw twitched.
“His name’s Calmoros,” Nayara added. “One of the temple’s guardians.”
They kept walking. Watching. Listening.
Lucien’s eyes told the story his mouth wouldn’t.
The way he flinched. The way he folded into himself. The robe slipping. The breath held too long.
And Renji—cocky, careless Renji—grew still.
Terrifyingly still.
Then: a flicker.
The temple light bent wrong.
“I can’t hold it much longer,” Nayara whispered. “Something here… it disrupts me.”
She swayed, breath shuddering.
“Time’s folding,” she hissed. “I can’t stay phased.”
Renji grabbed her wrist.
“My turn.”
The shadows of the chamber stretched wide. Cold.
And then they were there.
Lucien stood half-exposed, his breath caught in fear. Calmoros reached for him.
Renji stepped forward.
“Funny thing about drafts, they’re usually warnings.”
Calmoros whirled, gasping.
“Who—?!”
The shadows rose. The light vanished from Calmoros’ eyes. He screamed.
Nayara entered beside them, eyes glowing faint silver.
“Sleep,” she whispered, pulling the threads of time like a curtain.
Calmoros fell.
Renji turned to Lucien, still frozen, shaking.
“Sunshine,” he said gently. “We’re here now.”
Lucien blinked. “You… called me that before.”
Nayara waved a hand. "We gotta go"
"Why....are you here" Lucien asked, his body shaking.
“Because you deserve to be wanted for you. Not for what you were forced to give.”
Renji spoke softly.
Lucien looked at them both, at the broken robe and fallen wine.
And for the first time… stepped forward.
They landed in hot sand with stars swirling above. "f**k!" Nayara muttered
"What a potty mouth" joked Renji as he helped Lucien to his feet. "Let me guess not where you meant to land us".
Nayara exhaled leaning her head back with her eyes closed. "Ashen Ruins....the outskirts not too far from Eshkar Keep"
Renji took a look around and laughed.
"So in other words we're kinda fucked....I can work with that"
- Writer
