Page 12 of The Threads Between

“Was not August’s doing alone.” Her gaze was steady. “It was Elias’s magic amplified through him.”

My hand found the mantelpiece. “August isn’t⁠—“

“He’s not an Unraveler.” Beatrice closed the journal over her thumb, holding her place. “And that's why you survived. Even corrupted, even being used as a conduit, his magic recognized its Void Caller. The balance held. Destroying you would have meant destroying himself.”

Adeline had gone very still by the pocket doors, her gloved fingers pressed against her mouth. Calculating. I could almost see her reassembling every assumption she'd made about the opera house plan.

“That's why we can break the pendant's hold,” Mira said quietly from the window. “The magic itself is fighting against what Elias is forcing it to do.”

Beatrice nodded. “Threadbreakers are meant to free things, not destroy them. Every time Elias uses that pendant to force unraveling magic through August, he's perverting the natural order.” She set the journal on the side table. “And magic doesn't like being perverted.”

“If we can sever the pendant's connection . . . “

“August's natural abilities would return. Still wild. Still unprecedented in power. But no longer corrupted. And with a Void Caller to balance him, to call back what's been lost . . . ”

She didn't finish the sentence. Didn't need to.

Her eyes fixed on me.

“There is a complication.”

Adeline’s voice was dry. “Worse than what we’re already dealing with?”

“The hourglass pendant.” Beatrice said. “The one that brought you here.”

“Yes, it’s the same one,” I whispered.

“The only focusing stone. Passed to the most powerful Weaver in each generation. In this era, it belongs to August. In yours, it found its way to you. The same object. The same power. Just separated by a century.”

Marigold drew her knees up on the ottoman, arms wrapped tight around them. The fire lit one side of her face.

“That’s why you’re bleeding,” Syra said, and her voice had lost its usual edge. “Every time you restore a thread. You shake. You look like you’re going to collapse.”

“Your power requires the focusing stone to channel safely,” Beatrice said. “But here, now, the stone is bound to August and corrupted by Elias. Without access to it, the magic burns through you directly.” She paused. “Your life force becomes the fuel.”

The ghost-thread flared hot in my chest. Every cellar session. Every failed attempt. Every time I'd wiped blood from my lip and reached again—I'd been spending something I couldn't earn back.

“So she needs the pendant to survive,” Mira said slowly, “but the pendant is around August’s neck, controlled by Elias.”

“Not exactly.” Beatrice moved to the hearth, holding her hands toward the fire as if the explanation had cost her warmth. “She doesn’t need the pendant itself. She needs access to its power. And Threadbreakers and Void Callers are capable of sharing it.”

The fire popped, sending sparks up the chimney.

“When a they bind their magic together, they become two halves of one whole.” She gestured, and new threads appeared, intertwining until they became a single strand, gold twisting together, inseparable. “The bond you feel—that ghost-thread burning in your chest—that’s meant to be formalized. Completed. Once bound properly, the focusing stone attunes to the bond itself. Both can draw on its power, even if only one wears it.”

She lowered her hands. The demonstration threads dissolved.

“The Threadbreaker channels the stone’s power directly. The Void Caller draws on it through their connection. They’re linked. Balanced. One cannot use their full power without the other’s presence to stabilize it..”

The pieces locked into place with a weight that pressed the air from my lungs.

August Hawthorne wasn't only the man I needed to save. He was the missing half of my power. And every time I reached into the void without him, I was burning alive.

I couldn’t breathe.

“I need—“ My voice failed.

I didn’t wait for permission. I turned and walked out of the sitting room and out the front door. Distance wouldn't make any of it less true. I went anyway.