The ruins were still smoldering.
Fragments of the Unmaker lay scattered like shattered bones across the floor, twitching with dying embers of threadlight. Silence had returned—but it wasn't peace.
It was the kind of silence that follows something ancient being buried… or awakened.
Kael crouched beside a broken gear from the Unmaker, examining the blackened edges. "It fused with older threadtech—stuff from before the First Markings. This thing wasn't made to destroy threads. It was built to replace them."
"Replace…?" Riven asked.
Kael nodded grimly. "Wipe out every original bond and let them create new ones, uncontrolled. No Marks. No rules. Just chaos."
I stood off to the side, staring into the air.
Something inside me was… missing.
Not painful, just hollow. Like a page torn from the middle of a book I could no longer read.
My Anchor Thread was gone.
And yet… I was still here.
I still remembered my name, Riven's hand in mine, the way my heart had lifted when the Mark first shimmered across my skin.
But other things?
Fuzzy.
My father's laugh. My favorite lullaby. The taste of strawberry tea from my childhood.
Fading.
"Something's wrong," I whispered.
Riven stepped close, his hand brushing my arm. "We'll figure it out. Together."
Just then, a low whistle echoed through the cavern.
We turned—blades raised.
A boy stepped from the shadows, no older than sixteen, with silver eyes and a cloak that shimmered like mist.
"You made quite the noise," he said, smiling like someone who enjoyed walking through danger. "The Court isn't dead, you know. You just took out their pet."
Kael frowned. "Who are you?"
The boy tilted his head. "Call me Thorne. I'm… what's left when the world breaks rules it never understood."
Riven stepped protectively in front of me. "You part of the Fracture Court?"
Thorne laughed. "No. I'm older than their anger. And younger than your rebellion. I came because she"—he pointed at me—"just did something impossible."
I tensed. "I destroyed the Unmaker."
"No," Thorne said. "You redirected your Anchor Thread. That shouldn't be possible. And yet, here you stand—Threadless, but still bound. A paradox."
My skin prickled.
"What do you want?" I asked.
His smile vanished.
"To warn you. There are others like you waking up. Broken. Unanchored. Dangerous."
He stepped backward, vanishing slowly into mist.
"When they come… you'll be the only one who understands what they've lost."
---