The Red String Effect

Chapter Three-- Part Five: Frayed

Layla stared at him, the storm howling through the shattered window, rain dripping into the room. "What do you mean... tied?" her voice shaking. Luca didn't flinch. "When the knot began in the greenhouse, it wasn't just yours. It was ours. You didn't choose it. Neither did I. The weave did and now... we're bound." Layla's breath caught. She wanted to deny it, to shove him away, but her chest burned. She looked down – her thread pulsed again, twisting in rhythm with his. Red light coiled with black, tethering them in the air between their bodies. Her hands trembled. "Untie it."

"I can't." "Then cut it!" she snapped. He shook his head. "You don't understand. If we cut it now, neither of us survives. The knot stabilizes you. It's the only reason the fragments haven't already dragged you under." Layla pressed her hands to her temples, the room spinning. She felt sick. This wasn't supposed to happen. Threads weren't supposed to change, weren't supposed to corrupt. And now she was bound to him – him – a boy who barely existed, who was part shadow, part absence.

"No," she whispered. "No, I won't –" her words died in her throat. Because something else was in the room. The shadows in the corners thickened, threads uncoiling from the floorboards. The air dropped ten degrees. Layla's skin prickled as another faceless figure pulled itself from the darkness, taller than the last, it's body bristling with dozens of threads. Her string lurched violently, yanking her forward like a fish on a hook. The figure's black coils surged toward her, faster than before. Layla screamed, stumbling back – and then Luca grabbed her wrist. The knot between them flared.

Red and black threads burst from their chests, colliding with the entity's like lightning. The air shook. Sparks rained against the walls. The figure shrieked, but its threads pushed harder, wrapping around Layla's arms, her throat, squeezing – "Fight it!" Luca shouted. "I – I can't!" "Yes, you can! The knot is yours too. Use it." She felt it then. The thrum of the knot in her chest, a dual heartbeat hammering against her ribs. It burned – hotter, hotter, until she thought she'd split apart. Her vision tunneled. Her hands rose without thinking, threads coiling from her skin. Not just red. Not just black. Both.

They lashed outward, striking the faceless figure like whips. The entity reeled, its form convulsing as Layla's threads pierced its chest. It shrieked louder, the sound glass-sharp, before unraveling into smoke that blew apart with the storm. Layla collapsed to her knees, gasping for air. Her whole body trembled. The knot inside her pulsed wildly, alive, electric. She looked at her hands. They glowed faintly – red veins threaded with black ink, fading slowly back into her skin. She had done that. Her stomach twisted. She wanted to be sick. But beneath the nausea, beneath the terror, something else bloomed.

Power.

She looked up at Luca. His expression was unreadable, but his voice was low. "Now you understand." Layla shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I don't want this." "You don't get to want it," he said softly. "You already have it." The storm outside thundered, rattling the house. Layla clutched her wrist, the knot thrumming against her heartbeat, binding her to him. And for the firs time, she realized the truth. She wasn't fighting the threads anymore. She was becoming one of them.