The sky didn't return to normal after the surge.
Instead, it watched us—not with eyes, but with presence. The shimmer above shimmered no more. It pulsed. Like a heartbeat.
Kael drew a circle around the group with crushed seedstones—old protection magic. It wouldn't hold if something powerful came, but it gave comfort.
And right now, comfort was currency.
Riven sat beside me, arms resting on his knees, eyes focused on nothing and everything.
"I saw my father in the surge," he said.
I turned toward him. "A vision?"
"No. A memory." His voice was softer than I'd ever heard it. "He looked at me the same way you did—right before you stepped into that shimmer. Like he knew… I'd survive, but not unchanged."
I didn't answer. Because I knew what he meant.
There were two versions of me now: the girl who feared the thread, and the one who bent it.
I wasn't sure either one belonged here.
"We need to move," Kael said suddenly. "We linger too long, they'll sense her. That… third thread you made—someone will come looking."
I stood, brushing stardust from my skin. "Where do we go?"
"To the Threadforge," he replied.
My heart stopped. "That place is a myth."
Kael met my eyes. "So were you."
Touché.
Riven rose beside me. "If the Forge is real, and if it still holds the Echo Tools…"
"Then maybe," Kael said, "you can make more than choices. You can make change."
We packed quietly. The Threadless followed. And as we made our way through a forest that bent slightly away from me now—like it knew I was different—I heard something.
A whisper.
Not in my mind.
Not in the threads.
But in the space between.
It said one word.
"Daughter."