Page 60 of The Threads Between

“August, please,” I called into the nothing. “I’m here. I came for you.”

The thread pulsed, warm, alive, refusing to believe he was gone. Then, so faint I thought I’d imagined it.

Can’t.

I froze. “August?”

Can’t reach. Can’t⁠—

The voice came from everywhere and nowhere. Just present and sourceless. A whisper scattered across the void.

“I’m right here.” I moved through the darkness, searching. “Follow my voice. Follow what connects us.”

I reached for memory deliberately. The strongest one I had.

That night. His hands tangled in my hair—gentle despite the desperation. The taste of him. The sound he’d made—half gasp, half prayer—when I’d pressed closer. How his heart had hammered against mine like it was trying to climb out of his chest and into my hands.

“Remember this,” I said into the emptiness. “Remember kissing me. Remember us.”

Tried. The whisper fractured like dropped glass. Can’t. Too deep. Too⁠—

The words scattered.

“No!” I pulled on the thread desperately. “Don’t disappear. I need you. Not just for the bond—not just to stop Elias. I need you because I love you and I can’t—“ My voice broke. “I can’t do this without you.”

Silence stretched. Long enough that I thought he was gone.

Dying. Memories dying. I’m⁠—

“You’re not dying.” I poured everything into the connection. Every memory. Every feeling. Every moment of longing. “You’re trapped. But I’m here now, and I’m not leaving you alone in this dark.”

Nothing.

Then his voice came again—clearer now, closer, like he’d fought his way to the surface long enough to speak.

Can’t be pulled.

The words landed heavy and final.

“Then I’ll come to you,” I said. “Tell me where you are.”

Everywhere. Nowhere. Scattered. Pieces. Can’t pull them back together.

The pendant. Elias. Months of corruption eating away at him until there was nothing left but fragments floating in void, unable to coalesce into anything whole.

“Then let me help you,” I said. “Let me pull the pieces together.”

No time. Desperation bled through the scattered words. Suppression failing. Can feel it breaking.

He was right. Beatrice's magic was weakening. I knew it the moment it happened—the pendant's corruption surging back like water against a crumbling dam.

“I don’t care. I’m not leaving you here.”

Have to. His voice strengthened with desperate urgency. Go. Before you’re trapped too.

“August—“

Please. The word cracked like ice under weight. Can’t save both of us. Go. Before I lose you too.