The Boy Beneath the Ink

Theo

They shouldn't have let me remember.

That was their first mistake.

The second was assuming I wouldn't do anything about it.

But memory has weight.

It isn't a silent return.

It crashes.

Like floodwaters against stone.

Like blood on clean snow.

And mine came back in pieces.

---

The first was her laugh.

Before she had her voice trained into obedience.

When we were still kids sneaking out of Keeper prep classes just to draw the sky from the wrong tower.

The second was the ritual.

The fire.

The way she bled for something she didn't understand.

And the way I stood there and watched, promising myself I'd never let them use her again.

The third—

Was the thread.

---

It wasn't meant for me.

She had been marked to bond with someone else. Someone chosen. Someone with approval.

But she didn't want that.

And she reached for me.

I didn't stop her.

---

So they punished us both.

They wiped her memory clean.

And left mine fractured — just enough to make me ache, but not enough to remember why.

Until the mirror.

Until the Book opened for her.

Until her lips found mine and everything came rushing back like fire down my throat.

---

That's when I ran.

Not because I didn't want her.

But because I remembered the other truth—

The one they buried deeper.

The one even Julian doesn't know.

The one Anastasia died to protect.

---

I'm not just tethered to her.

I'm bound to the curse.

The one that started with the original Keeper.

The one the Book doesn't speak about.

The one that says:

> "Whichever thread she chooses, the other will burn."

---

So I ran to the only place that still held the truth.

The ink tower.

The original scriptorium beneath the school.

Where the first spells were written.

Where the flamebound oath was cast.

And where the final memory is hidden — the one Anastasia left behind before she vanished.

---

The ink tower isn't a pretty place.

The walls are black with spell-blood.

The floor is cold.

There are voices in the ink wells. Not human ones.

But I came anyway.

Because if I don't find the source—

She'll choose.

And one of us will die.

---

The whispers down here are worse than the Listening Room.

They slither instead of speak.

They remember you.

They rewrite the walls the longer you stay.

But I keep walking.

I pass old Keeper robes strung up like warnings.

I pass names I no longer recognize carved into the stone:

*Ren. Nyra. Cassian.*

And then—

I find it.

An old book.

Not the Book.

Not hers.

But its twin.

The one that holds the curse.

---

I open it slowly.

It bleeds red.

The pages ripple like breath.

And the first line is carved instead of written:

> THE CURSE OF THE SPLIT THREAD: A KEEPER'S BURDEN

I read on.

> "When the Book awakens and the Keeper bonds with two, the balance will crack. One thread will hold. One will fray. The one not chosen will carry the fire and burn from within, until only memory remains."

---

I fall to my knees.

Because I realize what it means.

If she chooses Julian—

I'll die.

Not instantly. Not dramatically.

But from within.

The fire I was marked with will consume me.

Because I was never meant to be the second thread.

I was meant to die eight years ago.

---

I lean against the stone, chest heaving.

The only thing keeping me tethered now—

Is her.

Not the past.

Not the bond.

Her.

The way she kissed me without knowing the curse.

The way she looked at me like I wasn't broken.

The way she wanted me, even in the dark.

---

But if she finds out—

She'll blame herself.

And that's what they want.

They want her guilt to bury her power.

Because a Keeper wracked with regret can't wield the Book.

They don't care if I die.

As long as she doesn't choose me.

---

I rise.

My legs are shaking.

The ink tower is alive now. The walls whisper my name.

> "Theo… Theo… Theo…"

But I don't listen.

I hold the book to my chest.

And I run.

Because I have to warn her.

Even if it means she turns away.

Even if it means I break the one thing I swore I wouldn't:

> Her trust.

---

When I emerge from the ink tower, it's night.

Storm clouds cover the sky.

And somewhere in the Keeper's wing, I feel it—

The moment she whispers my name.

> "Theo…"

---

I stumble toward the west gate.

They'll be watching. Waiting.

Julian.

Lyra.

The council.

But I don't care.

Because I remember now.

All of it.

And I still choose her.

Even if the curse does what it was made to do.

---

Because sometimes love isn't soft.

Sometimes it's not safe.

Sometimes love is fire—

And I would rather burn than ever stop feeling it.