And the auditorium blinked away.
A weightless, blinding white bled at the edges of her vision, swallowing sound, gravity, time. A void, both familiar and unearthly. She stood suspended in a place she had visited only once before: a space beyond logic, shaped not by matter but by magic.
She looked down.
The thread.Red. Frayed. Quivering.
“It’s working,” she breathed. But then the thread jerked violently—and suddenly he was there, too.
Kian, standing across from her, eyes wide.
“Riya?” he whispered. “Where are we? Whatisthis?”
She tried to steady her breath. “It’s the curse,” she said. “I think—I think it’sbreaking.”
His gaze dropped. The thread glowed faintly between them.
Then his expression shifted.Terror.
“No—” His voice broke. “No, no. I don’t want to forget.” The ache in his voice cut through her like a blade.
Another thread snapped—sharper this time, like glass fracturing in silence. He reached for the thread, gripping it like it might dissolve without him.
“Riya. Tell the magic to stop.”
“But thisneedsto happen,” she said. “The magic is trying to reset back to the status quo. It’s restoring the imbalance.”
“I don’t care what the rules are.” His voice rose. “Why does it get to choose what we forget? That’s not restoring balance—not if it’s erasing parts of me.”
“Because magic hasrules—”
“Then webreakthem.”
A jolt of magic surged between them, rattling her bones, and another thread snapped. Riya flinched at the sound, the force of it vibrating through her hand.
“I don’t know what would happen if we fought it,” she said. “It could destroy us, Kian. That’s not just metaphor. You could be—hurt.”
“Then I get hurt.” He stepped closer. “But at least I’d know I tried. I’m not letting this go just because the universe wantsbalance.”
He was trembling. But so was she.
She looked down again. The thread was unraveling faster now.
“Don’t we feel the same?” he asked suddenly.
Riya’s body went still. “I...”
It was such a childish question. Such a Kian question. It was the kind of question asked by foolhardy protagonists in the books Mel read, the ones who would throw all caution to the wind in the name of love.
Riya looked away. “Obviously, you troglodyte.”
Kian’s laugh was shaky, almost startled. Relief washed over his face, softening the sharp edges.
“Then it’s worth it.”
The thread shimmered. Something shifted in the air. The pressure that had been building didn’t break—it transformed. And the magic, sensing the change, seemed to hesitate. Tolisten.
Riya stepped forward. “Don’t let go.”
