Even if I tried, I couldn't make the Threads appear. I couldn't check to see if the Thread between Calen and I might try to re-form, I couldn't see what was happening to anyone else, and I couldn't—

Rule number one: Re-tie any lines you cut.

Double fuck.

I looked down at my chest, hands fumbling with lines of energy that I knew were invisible to the man standing over my bed. Usually, cut lines stuck around for long enough to tie them somewhere else, frayed and dangling, but now I couldn't even see if it was there or not.

It was just gone. Vanished. All the Threads were gone. That... was not good.

Rule Four: A Thread never truly disappears.

So where were they? And why couldn't I see them anymore?

I couldn't think. I couldn't feel. I couldn't breathe. Everything around me seemed to blur, my heart rate increasing to an earth-shattering pace as I struggled for air.

What if I had done something horrible? What if the blowback from my decision to break the soul mate Thread went beyond just Calen and I? That energy had to go somewhere. Yes, in theory, it could dissipate and even out over the course of other Threads across the universe, but that wasn't usually how the Threads operated. Rather than dissolve and spread out, a single Thread liked to stay a Thread. It just typically found something or someone else to attach itself to, and that phenomenon tended to create disasters.

I started to cry. I couldn't help it. The panic was overwhelming, unlike anything else I'd ever felt in my life. Everything felt so strange and empty as I tried to reach out to the Threads, the feeling eventually settling into my chest, where it grew and swelled into pain.

It was like an awful heartburn, in a way. I knew something was supposed to be there, but it wasn't. I tried to reach out, tried to find it, but I couldn't.

And then it dawned on me that the pain wasn't from losing sight of the Threads. That wasn't causing me physical discomfort.

There was pain coming from my chest because I'd cut the Thread leading to Calen. That had to be it. That was the only logical explanation. In cutting my connection to Calen, I'd effectively cut off a significant part of my own magical balancing point. The entire magical world ran on the principle of balance, so chopping away a balancing force was almost certainly a bad idea.

No wonder I was in pain.

Dante moved towards me as quickly as he could, perching on the side of the bed and pulling me into a hug. I reached out for him automatically, still unable to articulate anything through the whirl of thoughts in my head.

"Hey, hey," he soothed, gently petting my hair. "We'll figure it out. You're safe. That's the important part."

I latched onto him like a child while I cried, nestling into his larger form and holding fistfuls of the fabric of his shirt like it might keep me from spiraling away entirely.

With Dante close by, the pain seemed to lessen. Instead of a sharp burn, it was a dull ache. Callie came over to hug me, too, and for a moment the pain seemed to disappear entirely. I was safe. I had people who cared for me. I didn't need a connection to Calen to feel complete, though some part of myself that I couldn't control seemed to think that I did.

What happened if Calen decided the pain was too much for him, though? Could he just take us back to before?

"What if he rewinds?" I stuttered. "What if he goes back to before I got away?"

Callie and Dante pulled away as I spoke, but they stayed close, and for that I was grateful. Having them near was good— it made it easier to think. Dante frowned, his hand still rubbing gentle circles on my back.

"Well... he hasn't done it yet, just like I said before. That's the best I have for now, I'm afraid," he said with a sigh.

Then, suddenly, something dawned on me.

"If I can't use the Threads, does that mean Calen can't use his magic, either?" I asked, panicked and hopeful at once. Callie and Dante exchanged worried glances.

"Sunday," Dante said slowly, "What did you do back there?"

I wasn't really sure that I wanted to go over the whole story from start to finish. They knew the most basic part of it already— that Calen stopped me on the way to the Veil crossing point. They also knew that I'd managed to get away from him, obviously... but it was time to recount exactly how that happened.

I grabbed for Callie's hand with one of mine, and then Dante's with the other. I didn't even think I felt okay talking about it without knowing they were there, and that I wasn't going back to Calen.

"He kept rewinding every time I tried to do something to get away. I had to think of something he really wouldn't expect, something he couldn't undo," I whispered. "So I cut our soul mate Thread."

"Holy shit," Callie breathed. "You can do that?"

"Apparently," I said dazedly.

"My guess would be that Sunday is the only witch in existence who can," Dante said slowly. "A soul mate thread is part of the fabric of your

"It... hurts," I admitted. "I don't really think I was supposed to do that. It feels empty and wrong."

It also felt better, but I didn't know how to articulate that. As eerie and hollow as I felt if I concentrated, I also felt a sense of freedom. The soul mate Thread was a restrictive binding as much as a tie of fate, and I was glad to be rid of it, even if it wasn't comfortable.

"Calen said his magic came into being to balance mine. It wasn't something the Moon Goddess put into place on purpose like the Weaver," I said slowly. "Way back when I was Ataraxia, he was her husband. Or lover. Or... someone." I floundered, only halfway able to remember what Calen had said versus what I'd seen in my visions.

"In that case, it's a logical conclusion that he'd lose his magic as you've lost yours, even if it's temporary," Dante said, starting to pace around the room. "However, this is an unprecedented case. I've never known of anyone who even had the ability to rip apart their soul mate bond at the level you just did."

"Is... is he still my soul mate?"

"I'm not even sure of that at this point," he sighed, rubbing his temples.

"Check your Witch's Mark," Callie suggested. It was such a logical thing to do that I was ashamed I hadn't thought of it.

I pulled down the blue duvet to take a look at my ankle, where I expected to see the same Rorschach blot I had seen my whole life. I'd never really been able to figure out what the symbol was, or if it was supposed to be anything at all. However, when I adjusted my leg to see, it wasn't what I expected.

I knew Witch's Marks were a result of magic, but I didn't realize it was possible for them to shift as dramatically as mine clearly had. It had only been a few days!

Apparently, it wasn't a melanin mark created by biology so much as a magical imprint on the skin, because the design on my ankle had changed. Instead of a strange blot of a design that looked like it wanted to be three different things, it now looked as clear as an intentional tattoo.

On the back of my ankle in dark brown was the shape of a crescent moon. Laced over the space where the moon's shadow would be, there was a spider web design, completing the perfect circle shape. It was lovely.

And it was mine. It wasn't shaped like that because of any influence from Calen. This belonged to me, Sunday, the Weaver. It belonged to every version of me that navigated their life while struggling with how to handle the Threads. It belonged to the first me, who chose to take on this power to try and help humans and Sylvans alike.

I still wasn't sure what I was supposed to do with it, but I knew it existed for a reason. Now, at the very least, I was free to find that reason without Calen's manipulative machinations pushing me in the directions he wanted.

"We can talk about all this later, if you're feeling up to it. We'll let you rest for now," Dante said, gently kissing my temple before he started to stand. Callie mirrored him, giving my hand a squeeze and getting up from the bed.

"W— wait!" I said suddenly, clenching the duvet till my knuckles were white.

Callie glanced over at Dante, and then back at me. It didn't take a genius to figure out that I wasn't really ready to be alone, and it took even less thought to see that there was something happening between Dante and I.

"You should stay," she said, inclining her head towards him. "I'm going back down to the library, but I'll check in later."

"Okay," I said, a tired smile on my face. "Report back when you can."

Callie saluted me in the way she always had, and then made her way out the door. It was relieving to see her looking stronger, like she'd been able to rest a little, even if it was only for a few days. With luck, she'd be on her way to a full recovery soon.

Maybe we could have a catch up day soon. We certainly needed it.

"Slide over," Dante said, nudging me gently as he kicked off his shoes. "Looks like I'm staying here tonight."

"You don't have to," I squeaked, but I slid over to make room.

"It's not a problem," he murmured, adjusting the pillows so we could lie down. "You need rest, and I'd feel better knowing you're right here with me."

He waved a hand and the fae lights brightening the room went out. I blinked into the darkness, surprised. I hadn't even registered the time of day, but apparently it was night. It felt a little silly to go back to sleep after just coming back from unconsciousness, but I understood that it was important to let my body recover from whatever had happened back there.

Dante slid closer until he hugged me from behind, my back against his chest so I could feel his breathing. I put my arm over his, threading our fingers together where his hand rested over my stomach. Slowly but surely, the tension faded from my muscles as I let him support me.

"How's that?" he whispered.

"Good."

His soft embrace and sweet scent surrounded me, and before I knew it, I was asleep.

... And dreaming.

My first reaction, as soon as I realized that I was dreaming, was to try to wake up. I wasn't in the mood to see Calen right now, especially any dream versions of him. Dream Calen had a nasty habit of murdering my past incarnations.

I didn't see Calen in front of me, though.

I stood in a wide clearing in the middle of some kind of forest. The leaves on the trees seemed to sparkle with a blue-green bioluminescence, and bright moonlight beamed down from above. In the middle of the clearing, there was a stone altar with a large bowl.

My dream self, or maybe my past self, walked closer to the bowl, looking down into the contents. The altar bowl was full of clear water that reflected the moon above, but that also reflected my face back at me.

The woman who looked into the bowl had brown skin and jet-black hair. Her eyes were dark and her face was round, soft, and looked gentle. Maybe it was strange to think that I liked the look of my past self, but I did. She looked... normal. Safe. She looked like a lady I'd gravitate towards if a strange man was getting a little too close to me in public.

And then she straightened, looking towards a figure at the edge of the clearing.

I could tell the person was feminine, but it was difficult to see much else. She glowed brightly in the dark night, her tall, lithe form illuminated from within like a walking candle. I didn't need much context to understand that this was the Moon Goddess herself, that the white light coming from her exactly matched the light from above.

I hadn't expected to meet her in this way. Some part of me thought she only communicated in dreams or whispers, maybe through prophecies or vague visions.

Clearly, that was wrong. Whatever was happening, the Moon Goddess deemed it important enough to show up in person that night.

"Good evening, my Lady," I said, bowing.

As I moved, I could see that the pattern on my skirt was the phases of the moon, and that my clothes were the same shade of blue that the Sylvan Court wore for formal events. Dimly, I wondered if the blue and silver scheme of Sylvan royalty came from the Moon Goddess, but the scene went on before I could latch onto the thought.

"No need for formalities," she said. "You are a friend."

"I am a humble priestess, my Lady," I insisted, and now I recognized the voice. This was most certainly Ataraxia, and I was watching as she met with the Moon Goddess, maybe for the first time. I could feel her nervousness bubbling underneath my dim, dreamy awareness.

"You wanted to speak with me about the hunts on humans." It wasn't a question.

"I did," I said softly, squinting against her brilliant light. "I... I wished to find a solution to the violence. The monthly Sylvan hunts on humans have caused our numbers to dangerously decrease. If we cannot stop them, I am afraid..." I trailed off, but the end of the sentence was clear.

The Moon Goddess nodded slowly and sadly. I was impressed by the fact that she did not try to grandstand or boast, and I was humbled that she'd chosen to talk to me. I could feel the rush of pride and honor and awe in Ataraxia's chest.

"I created the Sylvans as a gift," the goddess sighed. "It was a gift of magic to be shared with all beings... but they forget that they were born from humans at the start. If they continue as they are, they will lose that gift forever."

"My Lady...?" I spoke hesitantly, watching carefully as the Moon Goddess looked off into the distance.

"If I do not separate the humans and Sylvans, humans will die," she said sadly. "I can't have that. The Sylvans only survive by virtue of the strength of human biology."

"What do you plan to do, then?" I could hear the hesitancy in the question. The situation must have seemed truly hopeless if it was bad enough that humans as a species were in danger.

"I will place a barrier," the Moon Goddess said carefully. "Sylvans and humans will have their own lands. They will be able to cross between them, but the Veil can also be closed entirely if needed... by you."

"Me?" I laughed. "I have no magic."

Interesting. This must be before Ataraxia was made the Weaver, and perhaps before she met Calen. I couldn't confirm the latter, but it was worth considering.

"I intend to change that," the Moon Goddess said, a mischievous smile crossing her face.

I felt my mouth— Ataraxia's mouth— drop open, but I didn't speak. Everything was a whirl of my thoughts and her thoughts overlapping, confusion and conjecture at once. Luckily, the goddess seemed happy to explain.

"Human magic will be weaker, of course, because their bones and blood cannot contain it the same way that Sylvans are made to do," she explained. "The Sylvans were created over generations of funneling magic into humans. We do not have that time as of now, but we can do a little."

For the first time, I didn't wake with a start from the vision. I woke peacefully, still tucked tightly against Dante's side. He breathed slowly, still in a deep sleep, and I was careful not to move too much so I didn't wake him.

"The strength of human biology..." I muttered, staring at the far wall. What the hell did that mean?

I was asleep again before I could figure it out.