Page 20 of The Threads Between

“I already knew that.” The words came easier than I expected. “It's lived in my bones since the moment I first laid eyes on him. Learning the reason doesn’t change what I have to do. It just explains it.”

Silence settled.

Garrick leaned forward. “Well, that’s remarkably pragmatic for someone who just had their entire existence redefined.”

“I’ve had practice,” I said dryly.

“Clearly.” He straightened. “So. What now? More training? Planning? A nice cup of tea while we contemplate cosmic destiny?”

Adeline stepped closer. “Beatrice—can you break the pendant’s hold?”

“Yes. But it will require the bond between them to be fully realized.” Beatrice moved to her satchel and pulled the journal from it again—her anchor, the way the railing outside had been mine. “Your magic and his must fully intertwine. Become the two halves of a whole you were meant to be.”

She let the weight of her words settle.

“The pendant works because it's forcing August's power through a corrupted focus. But if you formalize your bond—if you bind your magic to his properly—you become his anchor. The pendant would have to compete with a genuine bond between Threadbreaker and Void Caller. And it would lose.”

“How?” I asked.

“There are six stages.” Beatrice opened the journal and laid it flat on the side table, smoothing the spine with her palm. “All must happen in sequence, without interruption. Miss one, and the bond collapses. Or worse.”

No one spoke. The fire popped in the hearth.

“The first three are foundational.” She traced a thread pattern on the page as she spoke. “Physical contact—skin to skin, though the pendant will fight any touch that threatens its hold. Then open magic—both of you lowering every defense, exposing the rawest parts of your power to each other. Then collaboration—your magic working together to create something shared. A thread. A barrier. Something that requires both of you to exist.”

Syra's weight shifted off the wall. “None of that is safe to do around enemies.”

“No,” Beatrice agreed. “Which is why we must get August out first and bring him here. It's the safest way. I can create a temporary suppression—a counter-binding that dampens Elias's corruption long enough for August to make his own decisions. Once he's here, once he's lucid, we attempt the bond.”

“You want us to kidnap the Unraveler's pet weapon,” Garrick said slowly, “from the middle of a crowded opera house. During a public demonstration. While he's actively using August to destroy people.”

“Yes.”

“Brilliant,” Garrick muttered. “Absolutely brilliant. Why didn't I think of that?”

“Because you lack imagination,” Beatrice replied coolly.

“What happens after the first three stages?” Adeline asked.

Beatrice straightened from the journal. “Then it becomes irreversible. Stage four—interweaving. Your magic begins to braid together at the deepest level. If either of you pulls back after this stage begins, the recoil could shatter you both.”

Garrick's hands had gone still on the chair arms. No jokes. No deflection.

“Stage five is choice.” Beatrice's voice shifted—not softer, exactly, but more precise, as if the words themselves mattered more here. “This cannot be coerced. Cannot be forced. Both of you must consciously choose the bond—not out of desperation or survival, but out of genuine willingness to be joined. The magic will know the difference.”

“How?” Mira asked.

“Because a bond built on anything less than true choice will break under pressure. And this bond will face more pressure than most.” Beatrice met my eyes. “He has to want it, Lily. Not because the pendant is hurting him. Not because you're his only escape. He has to choose you.”

The ghost-thread flared warm in my chest. The memory of the way his magic had refused to touch me even when everything else burned.

“And the sixth?” I asked.

“Merge.” Beatrice closed the journal. “The final stage. Your magic becomes one system. Two sources, one flow. After this, you'll feel each other constantly—not just the thread you have now, but everything. Emotions. Pain. Power.” She held my gaze. “You'll never be truly separate again.”

The fire crackled. Syra had uncrossed her arms. Adeline's bare fingers pressed against her mouth—calculating, the way she'd done when Beatrice first explained the bond.

“And the suppression?” Adeline leaned forward. “How long can you hold it?”