Red String, Black Thread

Chapter 21: Broken Threads Still Bleed

Vesper (staring at her hands): "If I could take it back-undo it-"

Auren (gentle): "You'd never have met me again."

They sat in the quiet wreckage of her room. The air still shimmered faintly from where Ilián had vanished-like static in her lungs. The snapped red thread no longer hung between her fingers. It was gone. Imaginary. Or maybe... discarded.

But the black thread?

It pulsed.

Softly. Like a bruise.

Vesper (barely whispering): "I made you love me. Not because you wanted to... but because I needed you to."

Auren (eyes unreadable): "And I kept loving you. Even when I forgot why."

He stood and walked toward her mirror. It had cracked down the center during the thread flare, splitting her reflection.

One side smiled.
The other cried.

Auren (quietly): "You weren't a monster, Vesper. You were a girl in pain. In a lifetime neither of us remember clearly. You did something desperate."

Vesper (biting her lip): "That doesn't make it right."

Auren (turning to her): "No. But maybe we can still make it mean something."

Later that night, when silence returned and Auren had gone, Vesper sat in bed. A letter lay unopened beside her-no stamp, no address. Just her name. In her own handwriting.

Again.

She opened it.

It read:

"You'll want to forgive him. You'll think it'll set you both free.
But don't forget: you chose the curse.
You chose to tie him to your fate.
And now, someone else has to pay."

Vesper (coldly): "Someone else?"

The next morning, she found a name slipped into her locker.

Eirwen Noctis.

In red ink.

Underground.

It took her two days, three lies to her guardian, and one subway tunnel no one used anymore.

The corridor was lit by thread-lanterns-glass jars with knots of string glowing inside like trapped lightning.

Vesper walked past them, feeling like each one whispered her name.

Then she saw her.

A woman in her thirties, white hair streaked with silver thread, crouched over a body on a table. She wore gloves that shimmered like oil and glasses that didn't quite sit on her ears.

Vesper (cautiously): "Eirwen?"

Eirwen (without looking up): "If you're here for cutting, get in line. If you're here for truth, take a seat. If you're here to save a boy from a black thread-turn around. You're already too late."

Vesper (stepping closer): "I'm not trying to cut it. I want to understand it."

Eirwen (finally looking up): "You tied a thread around someone's soul, didn't you?"

Vesper (softly): "Yes."

Eirwen: "Black thread?"

Vesper (nodding): "And now it's killing him."

Eirwen (shrugging): "Of course it is. Love that becomes prison always does."

Vesper sat down, shoulders heavy.

Vesper (soft): "I didn't mean to trap him."

Eirwen (tilting her head): "That's what everyone says. Until the walls start bleeding."

Eirwen opened a book-handwritten, ancient. Pages upon pages of thread diagrams. Cut points. Failed rituals. Some pages were scorched, others missing.

Eirwen: "Black threads can't be cut. Only redirected."

Vesper: "What does that mean?"

Eirwen: "It means if you want to save him... you'll have to tie someone else to your curse."

Vesper felt the breath leave her lungs.

Vesper: "Use someone else?"

Eirwen (dryly): "Redirect it. Not use. Same pain. Prettier wording."

She handed Vesper a list.

Names. Photos.

People with... red threads.

Eirwen: "Pick a heart. Break it gently."

Vesper stared at the list.

One face caught her attention.

Not a stranger.

A friend. Someone who had always smiled at her in the hallway.
Someone who always knew when she was about to cry.

She blinked.

And saw it-

A faint red thread.

Not leading anywhere.

Just waiting.

Vesper (whispering): "I thought I was done hurting people."

Eirwen (clapping the book shut): "Then you shouldn't have tied that knot, sweetheart."

TO BE CONTINUED.