Page 35 of The Threads Between

What if there wasn’t enough left?

My lungs forgot their purpose. I stumbled back from the window, pressing my palm against my chest where the pendant burned cold.

What if tomorrow, when Elias forced his magic through me and into the opera house and the streets beyond, it found Lily—and I was too corrupted to stop it? What if the recognition was gone? What if three months had eaten away even that cosmic certainty, and I destroyed her because there wasn’t enough of August Hawthorne left to remember why she mattered?

I couldn’t breathe. The room tilted.

In Oxford, I’d had more of myself. Had still been fighting, still been whole enough that my magic could refuse. Could go around her like water around a stone.

I could barely remember her face. Could barely hold onto why anything mattered. Could barely feel anything beyond the pendant’s cold and the numbing grey that made the world distant and unreal.

What if I kill her?

The question opened a chasm in my chest. Worse than any pain the pendant had ever caused.

What if she’s in London because she’s trying to save me, and I destroy her for it?

My legs gave out. I sank to the floor, back against the wall, shaking.

Better to die now. Better to end this before tomorrow comes. Better she lost me than I killed her.

The thought crystallized with terrible clarity.

If I was gone, Elias couldn’t use me. Couldn’t force his magic through me. Lily would be safe. Everyone would be safe.

My hand closed around the pendant.

Not to remove it. I’d tried that before, weeks ago, and learned that lesson. The pendant wouldn’t come off. Couldn’t be removed while my heart was still beating.

But it could hurt me. Could stop my heart if pushed hard enough.

I’d felt it three weeks ago when I’d fought the binding. Felt how close it had come to killing me before Elias pulled it back.

What if I pushed it past that point? What if I forced my magic against the corruption hard enough that the pendant had to choose—let me break free, or stop my heart to prevent it?

Either way, I’d be done. Either way, Lily would be safe.

I closed my eyes and reached for my Threadbreaker magic. Just to push, to fight the pendant’s binding with everything I had left.

The pendant flared ice-cold.

Pain bloomed through my chest—not gradual, not building, just there. Bright and terrible and absolute. The pendant had reached into my ribs and closed cold fingers around my heart.

I pushed harder. My magic strained against the corruption, wild and desperate, searching for something to sever.

My heart stuttered. Skipped. Forgot how to be a heart at all.

Good. Just a little more.

The pain went white-hot—spreading through my arms, my throat, my jaw. My heart clenched like a fist and didn't release.

My vision tunneled. Grey crept in from the edges, narrowing my world to a pinpoint of bruised light from the window. The room spun. Or maybe that was me, tilting sideways, falling without moving.

Almost there. Almost⁠—

The pendant released.

Not gently. It snapped back like a rope holding too much weight. The cold that had been crushing my heart vanished, and suddenly there was space—room to beat, permission to function.