When you begin to awaken, the universe listens.
But so do the things that want you silent.
The gold thread from the locket coiled gently around her finger—alive, pulsing, warm.
Anaya sat frozen, watching it shimmer in the candlelight. It wasn't just magic. It was… hers.
Not borrowed. Not given. Remembered.
And that terrified her more than anything.
A sharp knock shattered the silence.
She flinched. "Who—?"
The door creaked open.
Not Mia.
Caelum.
He stepped in, eyes on the thread.
"So it's begun."
"What is it?" she asked, rising.
"The first piece of your soul," he said. "Each thread is a memory. When you collect them all, your true name awakens."
"My… name?"
He nodded slowly. "The name they erased. The name you buried beneath seventeen lives."
She looked down at the glowing thread. "Why now?"
"Because you chose it," he said simply. "That first act of remembering—
that was your will speaking louder than the curse."
"And now?"
"Now it listens."
That Night – Between Dreams
Anaya couldn't sleep.
Not fully.
Not with the gold thread glowing faintly on her nightstand.
And at 2:33 a.m., the world… shifted.
She sat bolt upright.
Everything in the room had gone silent. Not just quiet.
Unnaturally still.
No wind.
No ticking clock.
No breathing.
Then—she heard it.
Anaya…
A whisper.
Soft. Cold.
Familiar.
You left us behind…
She turned toward the mirror.
But she no longer saw herself.
She saw a child—a version of her, younger, lost, eyes wide with pain.
Standing behind her was a shadowed figure… mouth stitched shut, fingers holding burning threads.
This is your first trial, Caelum's voice echoed from nowhere.
Do not trust everything you remember.
The child stepped forward.
Anaya rose to her feet. "Who are you?"
The girl blinked. "You. When you left the gate unguarded."
"What gate?"
"You forgot," the girl said. "And they came through. You let them hurt the ones who believed in you."
Anaya's heart pounded.
The air thickened.
The shadows curled in toward her. And the voice of the stitched one rang out:
"You promised to return, Soulkeeper. You never did."
Suddenly, the gold thread rose into the air—burning now—twisting, reacting.
A wave of pain shot through Anaya's head.
Visions:
A tower collapsing in ash.
Children crying as the stars turned black.
Caelum screaming her name across dimensions.
A gate… cracked open.
And then—a choice.
The thread hovered above her hands, trembling between two forms:
A blade, forged from memory.
Or a veil, woven from forgetfulness.
Choose, the stitched one whispered.
Will you fight… or forget?
Anaya trembled. She didn't want pain. She didn't want war.
But she knew one thing now, clear as breath:
To forget was to die quietly.
To fight was to live out loud.
"I choose the blade," she said.
The thread burst into flame—then melted into her skin.
A mark appeared on her wrist:
A crescent moon bleeding starlight.
The shadows screamed and vanished.
The room returned to stillness.
And Anaya… fell to her knees.
Later That Morning
She awoke on the floor.
The thread was gone.
But the mark remained.
When she looked in the mirror, she saw something different now.
Not just fear.
Not just confusion.
But strength.
The kind that remembered fire.
The kind that loved too hard to let go.
Campus Library – Afternoon
Caelum was waiting. As always.
She showed him the mark.
He studied it carefully. "So. You chose the blade."
"I had to."
He smiled, not with joy—but with recognition.
"You've always chosen the blade. In every life."
Her voice was quiet. "What happens now?"
He looked out the window. "Now… the second thread finds you."