The first time she Threadwalked she’d slipped by accident. Anger and fear had opened the world under her feet, and she’d clawed her way back with instinct, stubbornness, and a prayer to gods. This time she went looking on purpose.
She pictured the threads as the seer had described them, not a single rope but a thousand strands braided and unbraided by intention. She reached for where they loosened near the breach, slick and writhing like living current. She caught one, and it seared her palm. She caught another and pulled it to the first, forcing them to twist together, and her Orchid tattoo sparked in response, heat blooming under her skin before dimming as though pouring itself into the space between worlds.
The sounds of the courtyard blurred, but she registered faintly that someone had called her name, Jakobav’s voice, low and furious, laced with fear. But she held the threads anyway and pulled them tight. The shimmer shoved back, a raw current slamming into her arms until they shook and her knees threatened to buckle. She dragged harder.
“Shut,” she hissed through her teeth. “Close.”
The seam widened in defiance. She tasted oranges and smoke and something sweet, like Fae wine spilling across her tongue.
She thought of Orchid soil and the way her fire had always come when she called it. She wished she could burn the breach shut with something that belonged only to her, but she didn’t have her flame, she had only this.
She steadied. The threads brightened beneath her grip, like they recognized her after all.
Finally, they surrendered.
The breach folded inward like a curtain pulled closed by an unseen hand, smoke vanishing into nothing. The hum in the air cut off so suddenly that the silence rang in its absence.
Ella swayed. The world tilted, despite the ground being solid beneath her boots. She would have gone down if Savina had not caught her forearm in a grip that was pure strength and only a trace of gentleness.
“Easy,” Savina said.
Ella blinked up at her. Savina was close, eyes dark, the scar across her cheek pale against flushed skin. She looked the same as ever: furious, unflinching, ready to kill anything stupid enough to breathe near her, but something else glinted beneath it now. Something harder to hide. Respect dragged reluctantly into daylight.
“That was…” Savina’s mouth tightened, as if the words themselves resisted her. “Impressive.”
Ella stared. “Did you just compliment me?”
Savina’s expression soured like she had bitten straight into a lemon. “Do not make me repeat it.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ella said.
Savina’s grip steadied her with a firmness that was almost protective.
“You were ordered to stand down, but you stepped toward the breach instead. No hesitation.”
Something raw flashed behind her eyes, brief yet unmistakable.
“You know…I’m starting to think you belong here.”
The words seemed painfully honest, and Ella forgot how to speak. The moment stretched too long, both fleeting and endless.
“I hope you decide to stay.”
Ella’s mouth went dry. She had no clever answer for that, only a breath held tightly, one that she couldn’t seem to let go.
Savina cleared her throat as if to erase the softness. “Tomorrow…there are five phases to the Claiming,” she said, tone clipped and practical again. “The one being Claimed gets to choose who stands with them in each phase, anchoring the rite. It’s tradition and strategy both, and if Jake wakes tonight, you need to ask him to put your name forward. The High Vexari will want it finalized before the first bell.”
“What are the five phases?” Ella asked, still catching her breath. Jakobav had changed the subject when Ella asked him questions about the High Vexari so it was unlikely that he would want or let Ella be a part of the ritual, but she didn’t say that to Savina, not wanting to shatter the moment.
Savina gave a single nod. “Binding of Stone, Tempering of Mind, Warding of Earth, Anointing of Flesh, Claiming of Truth. Sounds dramatic, doesn’t it? Really, it’s just blood, dirt, oil, water, and a lot of theatrics.” The ghost of a smile touched her mouth and died quickly. “I’m sure Bryn will call the fifth phase something ridiculous like bubbles and bath time. Ignore him.”
“Savina,” Bryn said from behind them, scandalized. “It does involve a sacred hot spring, and there are indeed bubbles.”
“The sacred spring is not something to be downplayed. Or underestimated,” Maeren snapped, approaching her and Savina with a pointed glance toward Ella and the place where the breach had been. “Good work.”
Thane slung the creature’s severed head into a sack with theatrical flourish. “Are we keeping this for décor? I know a spot in the great hall.”
“Try your room,” Savina said. “It’ll pair nicely with the horrors that probably occur there,” she muttered, smirking.
