Page 61 of The Threads Between

Even now. Even scattered and dying, even buried so deep he couldn’t pull himself together—he was trying to save me.

I thought about Elias. About his speeches on women and magic and danger. About the system built to keep women powerless, controlled, and silent.

And here was August, scattered across a void in his own mind, using his last fragments of consciousness to protect me. Choosing my freedom over his existence. Valuing my life as much as his own.

That’s what made our bond dangerous to everything Elias had built.

Not the magic.

The love itself.

That threatened the entire system.

“I’m not leaving you scattered,” I said into the void. My voice was steady now. Certain. “You fought for me. You fought for the Weavers. You’ve been fighting Elias every day, even when the pendant tried to make you forget how. Now it’s my turn to fight for you.”

No time. Suppression breaking. Go.

“No.” I wrapped both hands around the thread connecting us. “You said you’re scattered. Pieces you can’t pull together. But I can restore things, August. That’s what I do.”

Can’t restore this. Not the same as⁠—

“I don’t care.” The magic rose in my chest. “I’m not pulling you out. I’m putting you back together.”

My restoration magic rose—not warm this time. Burning. I let the magic explode outward into the void.

Searching.

There—

A fragment of memory, floated past. I caught it with threads of gold. Held it steady even as it tried to slip away.

Another piece—half a thought, incomplete. A feeling severed from context. Consciousness torn to shreds and left to drift.

I gathered them. Pulled them close.

And began to weave.

Gold threads spun from my magic, wrapping around the fragments. Not forcing them together. Coaxing. Reminding them they’d once been whole. That they belonged to each other.

The pieces trembled. Resisted.

Come on, I thought desperately. Remember. Remember what you were.

Slowly—agonizingly slowly—the fragments began to recognize each other. Started reaching. Connecting.

I wove faster.

Another fragment. Another. Building him piece by piece. My magic flowed through the cracks, filling the spaces between, holding everything together while it remembered how to be whole.

What are you⁠—

His voice was stronger now. More present. The pieces were coalescing.

“Shhh.” Blood dripped from my nose. I didn’t wipe it away. “Let me work.”

More fragments. Dozens of them. Hundreds. I caught them all, wove them all, my magic spinning faster and faster until I couldn’t tell where I ended and August began.

His scattered consciousness pulled together, fragments finding each other, clicking into place, building something that looked almost⁠—