Kael's voice was quiet but sharp, like a blade hidden in velvet.
"The Council said no one else was Marked," I said cautiously.
He smiled, bitter. "The Council says a lot of things. That doesn't make them true."
His threads shimmered faintly around his arms—deep red, like mine. But frayed at the edges. Damaged.
"How long have you been here?" I asked.
"Three years. Maybe four. Time's strange down here. Threadspace doesn't move like the world above."
He stood slowly, chains dragging behind him, and stepped into the light. That's when I saw it fully:
The Mark across his collarbone—identical to mine and Riven's, but half-scorched, like someone tried to burn it out.
"Why would they imprison you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
He looked up at me, eyes glowing faintly gold. "Because I refused to be controlled."
He nodded at the glowing glyphs above the cell door. "They couldn't sever my bond… so they locked me away and erased the memory of me from the Thread Archive. To them, I'm dead."
I shivered.
"And you…" he tilted his head, studying me, "You're the new experiment. The next Marked they think they can contain."
"I'm not an experiment."
He smiled. "Not yet."
I turned to leave—too many questions, too many alarms going off in my head—but Kael's voice followed me.
"Ask them about the Threadfire Rebellion," he called softly. "Ask them what happened to the last two who were Marked before you and Riven."
I paused. "Why?"
"Because they weren't lovers," he said, voice low and cryptic. "They were siblings. And the thread tore them apart from the inside."
My blood froze.
Kael stepped closer to the bars. "Desire Threads don't care about love, Sera. They care about intensity. Obsession. Need."
"And if you try to resist what it wants—" his gaze darkened, "—it burns everything else down."
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