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It’s the only reason I see the gold Creation Thread. It stretches from where I dropped my father and arcs up. I look down at my chest and frown. Shouldn’t my father’s Soul Thread stretch into my soul? I am his daughter and a Dual Thread. One Soul Thread is my mother’s and the other is his. But I still can’t find where my Creation Thread went. All that comes out are my Entropy Thread and the Archweaver line.
The golden thread stretching from the dark pit shifts, and I scramble to my feet. I follow the way it stretches out towards the dome of the Tapestry, where I had slipped through. It disappears into the chest of Alasdair. I suck in breath, eyes wide when his coiling drawl says, “My dearest sister. I’ve been looking for you.”
He is more like the curse I remember from my grimoire, when he dragged my soul to the in-between to torment me with Viola’s death. His skin has the same colorless white sheen that displays the bulbous, blackened veins along his neck and wrists. But his nails are long, black daggers, and his blond hair streaked with white still curls with that healthy bounce my brother always had. His green irises glow in the black pits of his eyes. This is what Alasdair has truly become. Not the handsome Heir, but this creature.
My lip curls in a judgmental sneer. “You are disgusting, creation.”
“Such flattery. Is this where you’ve been hiding all this time? I do admit it made feeding off of you rather difficult when all I had was a soulless, feelingless body to hurt. Luckily, I found myself a brand-new alternative, and my, did he fall in love with the wrong person.”
My eyes flare when Alasdair drags out someone from behind him. Valen is limp in Alasdair’s hold, his form semitransparent, his dull blue Soul Thread visible through him. Valen’s hands are not merely bound behind his back—the flesh has been fused. Where his mouth should be is smooth flesh and his eyes glassy and dull. He’s forced to his knees before Alasdair, and my rage builds in a mind-numbing fury.
“What did you do to him?” I snarl, fists curling with a crackle.
“Oh, this?” He pokes the smooth skin where Valen’s mouth should be. “I’m as surprised as you are. No soul has ever been brought over to this realm while the body wears iron.”
I suck in breath. “You kept the muzzle on him?”
“Dear sister, don’t be surprised. You would’ve done the same to me. Now, give me the Archweaver’s line.”
I shift my stance. “You want it? Come and get it, asshole.”
“Tempting, but no.” He flexes his hand, his black nails glinting as he presses them against Valen’s throat. “Give me the line. Now.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“I’m going to create the knot needed to keep the threads bound together.” He laughs. “Did you really believe Ascension was walking along the Tapestry with the Archweavers of old and laying our father to rest? Such poetic nonsense.”
I glance at the knots he’s referring to. “But why bother becoming Archweaver? What’s the point?”
He chuckles, “Oh, I’ll become much more than just an Archweaver. I will transcend this mortal shell and become the eternal god you all deserve.”
I glance down at the twisted thread in my fist with its four glowing colors. My gaze follows its path to how it stretches into my soul and then back down towards where it links smoothly to Alasdair’s chest. My gaze lingers at the Creation thread that droops down to the pits.
Alasdair’s voice hums. “All that power in your little human hands and you barely understand what to do with it. It’s pathetic. Now ask yourself, Astoria. What is more important? The power of the Archweaver or the man you’ve loved all your life?” He clicks his tongue. “Unless I grabbed the wrong hostage? Perhaps I should’ve held off on selling Lucas to Dimitar. A shame. But I’m sure Dimitar is already having his fun.”
Power surges, and I move before fully comprehending what it is I’m about to do. One moment, I’m by the core; the next, I’m slamming my clawed hand into Alasdair’s face. An eruption like a bomb exploding detonates on impact, throwing Alasdair back and engulfing him in golden flames. He hits the ground, snatching at the threads to stop his roll. The fire douses in a puff of smoke, and he launches towards me with a laugh. I throw myself back, dodging and deflecting his blows while careful to keep the line out of reach.
I scream an incantation, vision flashing, and my spell collides with my brother. His shield crackles manically as he’s forced back. Black clouds billow around him, dotted with flashes of silver lightning. I ignite, too, my flames crackling around me, gold and black swirling together and whipping my hair. A tornado of flames surrounds my form. Wings unfurl from my body and lift me, arching wide.
Power deepens my voice, echoing within the space as my form glows a rippling opalescence. I smile, my flames crackling all around. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m already the god they all deserve.”
Alasdair laughs, his body not glowing but marbling with white and black. Iridescent veins flicker through his flesh in tendrils, his green irises tinting with it. “As arrogant as always. It will be my pleasure to send you to our father.”
No matter what happens, I cannot let Alasdair ascend. I’ll cut the line and destroy myself if I must, but our fight will end today.
Our power surges, arcing our souls towards each other. When our power collides, the Tapestry trembles with the force of it.
CHAPTER 28
THE ARCHWEAVER ESTATE, ASTRUM FOREST
LUCAS
Ice crackles along the door before exploding outwards. My threads slice through the Guild members quickly, and Emilia’s daggers bury to the hilt in the throats of the frozen weavers. She reclaims her blades with ruthless slashes.
Emilia nods down the hall. “Keep up. We need to go fast.”
She sprints away, and I huff after her.
