“Yes,” he nods quickly, “everyone has one. A kind of aura our Threads emit. It’s invisible. In crowded places, dozens of Threadfields overlap, but most blur into background noise.”
“But sometimes... they don’t?”
His gaze flicks to me, then to the side. “Well. If two powerful individuals come together—and their fields happen to align—then certain anomalies could occur.” He glances up at me. “All sorts of strange things.” He stops himself, presses his lips together.
I twirl the curl again and let my voice drop just a little. “Brian, that’s incredible. You really are ahead of everyone on this stuff. I can’t believe more people aren’t working with you already.”
He looks away. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“So what kind of resonance are we talking about?” I ask, light but precise. “You said energy might move, like... Threads transferring? Or something else?”
He hesitates again, scratching his neck. “I mean, it’s all theory, but—yes. If two people share a Threadfield, then Threads could shift, from one person... to another. It would be like magnets. If both are stable, balanced, nothing really happens. But if one has unanchored Threads—or unstable resonance—then yes, it’s possible that some Threads could shift towards the more dominant one.” He pauses. “But it would probably require close proximity under heightened emotional stress”
“Like... intimacy?” I offer.
His cheeks go crimson. “I—I guess that would count. Yes.”
“And would that be dangerous?”
He looks at me, a little more serious now. “If left unchecked? Well I guess, if one person drew all the Threads from another... it could be fatal. Yes, for both parties.” A pause, eyes narrow, then “Why are you asking me this, Lyra?”
My stomach knots. Do I keep pushing? Keep asking?But what if I'm dragging Brian into something he can’t walk back from?
He doesn’t get it, not really. He thinks what he’s studying is all theory, or historic cases, harmless ideas pulled from old books his dad kept tucked away. But this stuff... it’s real.
Too real.
Does the Citadel know what he’s digging into? And if they don’t, what happens when they find out? There must be a reason this kind of knowledge isn’t shelved in their libraries.
But I need answers, and anyway he’s already knee-deep in this mess. He’s the one unearthing it. I’m just… helping.
So I lean in a little more, tilt my head like I’m curious. “I mean, if I understood the basics,” I say, voice light, careful, “maybe I could help with your research someday.”
Then I let out a soft breath. Like I’m impressed. And I am, just not in the way he wants me to be. But that does it, his whole face lights up like I just offered to marry him. Poor guy.
“You said lots of strange things can happen.” I continue, smiling. “Beyond just transferring. Like what, emotions? Could someone... feel what the other person feels?”
“Well, that’s not part of the original cases, but—” Brian shifts in his seat, a little more at ease now, “—when Threadfields align, it’s not just raw magic that could shift, it could also be like resonance. Like a bell struck in one tower, and a matching bell across the city rings in answer. If someone’s Threads are projecting something powerful—grief, desire, fear—and they are unstable, it could carry over.”
“What if both people could control it?” I ask. “If they were stable, could they stop stuff from happening?”
He thinks, then nods slowly. “In theory, I don't see why not. If both are anchored and trained in Thread control, they could resist automatic transfer. They might stillchooseto share Threads or emotion, but it shouldn’t bleed across accidentally.”
Brian glances over his shoulder. “You sure this is just curiosity? Because it sounds like you’re asking about real cases…”
Shit.
My smile slips for half a second, too fast to catch, I hope. “No, just curious. I think it’s a shame no one teaches this stuff.So many gaps, so many questions.” I tilt my head, let the flattery land. “Luckily, you’re smart enough to answer them.”
He blushes again and looks down at his notes like they might save him.
“Anyway,” I say, sliding to my feet, “thank you, Brian. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” I sling my satchel over my shoulder, flash him a sweet, grateful smile. “See you at the Ball?”
He blinks. “The—oh. No. I don’t really... dance.”
Pity.
Then I walk away before he can overthink everything I just asked.
