Page 62 of The Threads Between

The suppression cracked.

It shattered like glass. The pendant’s corruption surged back—a wave of black and grey crashing into the void, reaching for August’s newly-woven consciousness with hungry fingers.

“No!” I threw more magic at the fragments. Weaving desperately. Just a little more. Just one more piece. Just⁠—

The corruption slammed into my workings.

The golden threads I’d spun began to fray. Unravel. The pieces I’d so carefully gathered started to scatter again.

“NO!” I grabbed them with both hands. Wrapped my entire consciousness around the incomplete whole. “You don’t get to take him. Not now. Not after⁠—“

The void began to collapse.

Reality yanked me backward. The pendant was fully awake now, fully active, rejecting my presence with violent force.

Corruption cut into my consciousness like razors. Pain exploded through me—white-hot. My nose was bleeding. My ears were bleeding. My magic was tearing itself apart trying to hold the working together.

But I held on.

Let go, August’s voice—stronger now, almost whole. Lily, let go before it kills you⁠—

“Not. Finished.” I poured everything I had into the weaving. Every drop of magic. Every ounce of strength. Burning through my life force to fuel the restoration because if I didn’t finish now, he’d scatter again, and I’d never get him back.

One more fragment.

Just.

One.

More.

I caught it. Wove it into place. The pieces snapped together⁠—

Complete.

The void exploded.

Reality yanked me out so hard something tore. I heard myself scream, then tasted copper and smoke and burning.

I slammed back into my body, and the floor rushed up to meet me. Impact. Pain. Darkness gnawed at the edges of my vision.

Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t⁠—

Hands on me. Voices. Distant. Muffled.

“—losing too much blood⁠—“

“—her pulse is⁠—“

“—Lily, stay with us⁠—“

I couldn’t. The darkness was too heavy. Too absolute.

It didn’t work, I thought distantly. I failed.

Then everything went black.

Consciousness returned in fragments. First sound. The crackle of dying embers. Wind against windows. Then sensation. Blankets covering me. Something soft beneath my cheek. Pain settled in my bones and made itself at home.