Binding Threads Novels & Stories

But as long as they continue talking to each other they knew that they were going to make it in a way that most people didn't have the opportunity to. “well here's to the ties that bind us.” Jonathan said as he kissed her again, “you never have to fear telling me that you're pregnant with our children. Whether it be one or nine it really doesn't matter not to me at least. Because they are everything that will bind you to me and me to you for the rest of our lives and beyond though. I'm extremely lucky to have found you when I did. I wouldn't change anything in our lives and that I love you more than anything else could possibly be.” “to the ties that bind us forever and eternity.”

The writer of the article was in the top left corner of the page, and in it, he was talking about how he believes it is fully possible to bend time and pass through, letting yourself in through different horizons, at time either long past, or never experienced. He talked about the existence of the past and the future, just that they were at a different place from the present. Like three different houses, separated from the now. But I wasn't sure if this was not me in one of those far off, distant places, separated from the present. I swallowed. "How on earth did this happen to me?" I thought out loud, pushing my fingers into my hair. To him, time was like an interloping of threads, all relat

“They’re being distributed.” The word lands hard. Because it feels true. The threads weaving beneath the valley aren’t opening holes at random anymore. They’re sorting. Routing. Assigning. Like a machine waking up after a very long sleep and beginning the work it was always built to do. “What exactly did Bjorn build?” Ingrid demands. No one answers her. Not because we don’t want to. Because I don’t think any of us know the full shape of it yet. Kasper takes another step forward into the clearing. The threads around him respond faintly, but nothing like they did before. It’s subtler now—recognition without obedience. A system remembering an old hand that no longer fits the lock quite right.

It's not over, though. I gave him a look. "What do you mean?" He took a while to respond. He reached into his waistband and took something out. A slender thread of silver. It gave out a slight glimmer. "What is that?" I inquired. He referred to it as a "life-bind tether." "Your souls have been bound together, but this may reveal the connection." It floated in the air as he held it up. It extended from my son's heart to mine. Every heartbeat pulsated a gentle silver line.

I fall to my knees, and the rage and helplessness crash over me in a wave so brutal I want to claw my own heart out just to make it stop. And then I see it. The wound. It's there in the bond-space, same as it is in the real world—a jagged tear in my side, edges black and puckered. But here, I can see what it really is. Threads. Black threads, oily and alive, crawling out of the wound like roots. They're wrapping around the bond—the golden cord that ties me to Alyssa—and every time they tighten, the light dims. They're trying to strangle it.