Chapter 6: Threads Between Worlds

Night settled slowly over Vaelhara, bringing with it a veil of mist that crept through the roots of the old trees and pooled silently in the forest's breath. In the small clearing behind the secluded cabin, Hanae had laid out a ritual: small flickering candles placed at the points of an octagonal pattern, joined by crimson thread and protective sigils drawn into the earth.

A sacred silence hung over them, dense and expectant.

Rhett stood a few steps away, arms crossed, never taking his eyes off Merek, who now sat within the circle. His expression was unreadable—part worry, part warning—as if he feared Merek might collapse, or combust at the slightest provocation.

"How long has his spirit trail been fractured?" Hanae asked, her voice low as she adjusted the pattern of red threads in front of her.

"Three months," Rhett replied. His tone was clipped, restrained. "Since the day Lucia vanished."

"And since then, he's shut himself off from everyone?"

Rhett exhaled through his nose. "He tried to track her through their bond. But the harder he pulled, the more distant she became. And the more his own path began to tear apart."

Hanae murmured to herself, brow furrowed. "He strained the bond beyond its threshold. Not just the trail—his spirit is starting to unravel."

Merek remained silent, but his hands clenched the soil beneath him. His fingernails bit into the earth, trembling with suppressed emotion.

"If I fail," Merek whispered suddenly, his voice hoarse, "will the bond break completely? Will I lose her forever?"

Hanae met his gaze, calm but firm. "A spirit bond is like silk thread. Fragile, but it can be rewoven. But if you shut me out, if you close yourself off again, then yes—it will shatter. And Lucia's return will no longer be possible."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Merek nodded once. A brittle nod, but resolute. "Do it."

Hanae took her place across from him, inhaled slowly, and placed her palms over the central charm etched into the soil. The air around them began to shift. The spirits near the edges of the ritual flickered like nervous birds, drawn toward her presence.

"Close your eyes," she instructed. "You must guide me into the center of your spirit path. Do not resist."

Rhett stepped forward, his voice low and tense. "If this hurts him—"

"If I don't hurt him," Hanae cut in gently but firmly, "I won't be able to heal him."

Rhett fell silent, jaw clenched tight.

Then Hanae began to chant.

Her voice flowed like a current just beneath hearing—a vibration that stirred the very marrow of the forest. The candles pulsed in response, and a warmth suffused the circle.

Slowly, Merek's spirit path began to unfold.

Reluctantly at first, like a door being pried open after long disuse. But then it yielded. Hanae stepped inward, her consciousness threading along the cracked and splintered corridors of his inner world.

Inside, everything was shadowed.

She saw fragments: Lucia's smile, the memory of intertwined fingers, the joy of shared breath. Then, blackness—a jagged intrusion, sharp and cold, that had torn through those memories like teeth through silk.

A low echo trembled through the path. Merek's voice, not spoken aloud, but a remnant of pain.

"I called her. But Lucia never came back."

Hanae pressed forward, tracing the edges of the rupture. Her fingers found it: a single thread, still attached but frayed to the point of breaking. Suspended between spirit and void.

"She is still connected to you," Hanae whispered. "But this thread isn't strong enough to bring her back."

Merek's breathing quickened. His body trembled in the real world, sweat forming at his brow.

"Hold the thread with me," Hanae said. "But if you're afraid—if you doubt—it will snap."

"I don't know if I'm strong enough," he murmured, voice raw.

"If you turn away now, you'll never find out."

Merek reached. In the space of spirit, he took the fragile thread into his hands. And for the first time, he held it not with desperation—but with intent. With will. With heart.

The bond responded.

A pulse. A spark. The ghost of a heartbeat on the other end.

Then suddenly—a strike. A flash of blackness sliced across the path: a residual venom, a vampire's lingering bite, snapping at the thread like fangs.

Hanae summoned her energy in a surge, casting protective runes through the path, weaving her power around the thread like a barrier of light.

Sweat beaded at her temples. Her voice trembled. "Hold on, Merek!"

"I won't let go again!" he shouted, in both body and spirit.

The path held.

It wasn't healed. But it held.

Hanae opened her eyes slowly. Her breath came shallow. Merek still sat in place, chest heaving, but his eyes—there was light in them now.

Rhett stepped forward, urgency returning to his voice. "What happened?"

"The bond… is still fragile," Hanae breathed. "But he held it. He kept it alive."

"How long do we have?"

"If we don't strengthen it soon, it could break again within weeks. Maybe sooner."

Merek bowed his head. His fingers were trembling, but his heart beat stronger beneath his ribs. "You'll keep helping me?"

Hanae offered a tired, fleeting smile. "We're not done yet, Khurai."

Rhett looked from Merek to Hanae—and for the first time, allowed a breath of relief to show in his face.

Perhaps, he thought, they still had time.

Perhaps there was still a thread left to save.