Novel & Cerita An Invisible Thread

One soul mate per person, no need to be greedy. My saving grace is that I don't see the threads between people unless the two people are fairly close by each other, say a few blocks maybe. I don't know if I can see my own threads. I never have before, but that doesn't mean anything. I might not have any, or maybe I have never been close enough to anyone for my threads to be visible before.

It was just a hollow, glowing tether, trailing back toward the border bridge. “Ting.” The Archivist was suddenly crouched on the floor of the carriage, his face inches from mine. He looked fascinated, his grey eyes wide. “Task Eighteen: The Sight is a double-edged sword, Little Crow. You can now see the 'Shadow-Threads' the invisible tethers that connect every soul to their debts. To enter your father's estate safely, you must find the 'Weak Thread' among the border guards and snap it with your mind. Do not use a blade. Use the Sight.”

The day wore on, a beautiful prison of performed affection and hidden agendas. As the sun began its descent, casting long shadows across the lawn, they finally returned to the mansion, weary from the performance. It was then, as they passed her father’s always-locked study, that the setting sun caught it at just the right angle: a single, dark thread, finer than silk, stretched taut across the threshold, connecting the door to the frame, invisible unless you were looking for it. Her breath caught in her throat. It was a trap. A telltale sign. If the door was opened, the thread would snap. Someone had been inside. Or someone was ensuring they would know if anyone tried to get inside.

threads. Thin, glowing threads of light connecting people to each other. Different colour and intensity at which they burn. They floated in the air like spider webs made of pure energy. He could see a bright thread connecting him to Layla. A thread of friendship, something told him in his head, warm and steady. He could see threads connecting other students at different tables. Some threads were bright and strong. Others were thin and weak. And everywhere, flowing through the cafeteria like invisible rivers, were streams of energy…like Life force. The power that kept everyone alive.

"I don't think that so-called system exists either. It sounds more like an excuse. If it were real, it would be way too weak. How could it work without even filtering who the person is? It just doesn't make sense." Then, he added, "Don't overthink it. This world runs on smoke and mirrors. Maybe she just planted some kind of surveillance device in your apartment." I thought what he said made sense. Maybe there was no complicated high-tech involved; perhaps it was just a simple hidden camera. I immediately dragged Isaac back to my place. Together, we bought a scanner designed to detect hidden cameras, and we searched every corner of my home from top to bottom. We even checked inside the toilet

“That is how they show you a room exists without proving where it is.” Elaine captured the image. No one spoke for several seconds. Then Leah noticed one more thing. At the bottom corner of the photograph, barely visible where the runner met the wall, lay a small crescent of pale thread. Blue thread. Or perhaps only dust. Perhaps only light. Leah leaned closer, breath shallow. Daniel saw where she was looking. His voice was quiet. “Elaine.” “I see it,” Elaine said. The phone screen darkened. The image vanished into the evidence file.

To him, time was like an interloping of threads, all related to each other and the ultimate space, and in rare, yet possible cases, it was possible to bend those threads. Threads...threads of time...it rang a bell, but I wasn't sure where I had heard it from. I closed the book and fell on the chair. Time travel? Me? For what? So I can re-live some of the worst years of my life? I held my hair in handfuls and yelled, hoping that if I yelled hard enough, some miracle will take place and take me back to the time I belong. I have already lived past this. This is not my life any more.

Behind them, the group of red bugs swarmed up. “That’s troublesome!” Claudia looked grim now. She pulled the thread tight with her hands. The threads were super powerful—their surfaces were covered with deadly energy. No one really knew what they were made of. Anyway, under Claudia’s control, the two threads became extremely scary. Patterns emerged from them and barged into the insects. “Switch!” Claudia bellowed before the red thread turned into a large web, trapping the two golden bugs. In the next second, they were captured by the web, unable to break free for now.

The function running. The first ground beneath us. The seven threads radiating outward. The western thread active. Two months.

Raiyan called it a scrub job. Nobody is this invisible unless they're hiding something massive. You're the ghost in the machine, Sophia. But ghosts always leave a trail. I just haven't found the right thread to pull yet. He scrolled again. Slower. His mind kept snagging on her voice from the meeting. Your models don't work when they're softened. He exhaled a short, sharp breath. He wasn't softened. He was a stone. Then his fingers moved. He didn't plan it. He didn't think.