Invisible Knot Novels & Stories

Her phone started ringing again, she scoffed in anger and grabbed the phone, it was her father who called to lament about the video aswell. Joan was a good actress so she burst into tears aswell and hanged up after saying a few words. "I really need to make this more interesting and tragic" she thought aloud taking a quick glance around the car. Finally she found something lying outside the car, it was a broken piece of a bottle. She stepped out of the car and walked back in with the broken piece, Joan stabbed her arm with the broken piece of the bottle and it was bleeding profusely. She tore the ends of her clothe and tied it above the wound and drove off at home heading home.

“But I’m ready to remember.” The knot pulsed. One thread—darker than shadow, slick with something deeper than time—slithered toward her and coiled around her wrist. Pain lanced through her spine, not sharp, but vast, like the ache of every forgotten life. Her knees buckled, but she didn’t fall. The thread whispered in a thousand tongues. Your truth is not the world’s salvation. It is its undoing. Still, she stepped forward. The knot began to unspool.

The chain was adjustable, allowing Aqua to wear the pendant at just the right length so that it rested over her heart. As she wore it, Aqua noticed the stone's clarity, reflecting her calm and balanced state of mind. Whenever she felt at peace, the pendant remained clear and pristine. However, when her emotions stirred, the pendant would change. A slight hue of blue appeared when she felt sadness, while a warm golden tone emerged during moments of happiness. If anger or fear took hold of her, the gemstone would darken, turning a deep, unsettling black.

~~~~~~~~~~ BLACK HOUSE — UPPER BALCONY — HOURS LATER Lorenzo stood under a violet dawn. Wind biting through his coat. Ash on the horizon. Smoke from cities that didn’t even have names anymore. He lit a cigarette. Didn’t inhale. Inside the coat pocket was a sealed injector. One-use. Triggered by death-pulse. Connected to a dormant satellite. He held it in his palm for a long time. It weighed less than a bullet. But it felt heavier than God. Inez appeared behind him. "You look like hell."

It was absorbed. The porcelain drank it like a mouth parched for centuries. Violet filigree spread. Delicate at first. Then faster. A spiderweb of veins, roots, neural pathways mapping themselves across the blank surface. No longer empty. Networked. A lattice of my essence, my claim, my refusal to be interpreted by anyone else's design. "Is that... soul-binding?" Emberlyn's voice hushed. The particular hush of someone realizing they were in the presence of something that didn't follow the rules they'd memorized.

Her smile was soft, composed, perfectly measured. “An emotional backlash,” she said lightly, addressing the crowd before anyone else could. “The Moon resists sudden severance. It happens.” The elders exchanged uncertain glances. I was still kneeling where the guards had left me. The bond throbbed faintly in my chest , not broken, not gone. Just… buried. Alpha Xander did not look at me. One of the elders frowned. “It should have severed.” Xander’s jaw tightened, “And it did!” A small pause, “Remove her,” he ordered.

The violet light from his eyes pierced the gloom, revealing the prize we had come for. Hidden behind a waterfall of corrupted, black water was a massive, ancient Ziggurat made of seamless obsidian. It was pulsing with a heartbeat of pure anti-light. The first Tether. "Knock knock," Killian whispered.

The leather was cold against his soaked sweats. Ronan started the engine. Drove. The silence inside the vehicle was thick—charged, electric, alive. Jax stared out the passenger window, watched the city lights fracture and blur into long streaks of color. Ronan’s hand settled on his thigh—light, steady, not demanding anything. Just there. The aftershock eased. Just a fraction. Just enough to breathe. The invisible bond between them pulled tighter, undeniable. And the truth settled deep in Jax’s bones, heavier than biology, heavier than heat:

Every time Iyanla pulled a thread, a piece of Kael’s history—his first hunt, his rejection of me, his howl in the North—vanished into her robes. "He’s disappearing, Amara!" Ronan roared. The rogue Alpha swung his emerald axe at the threads connecting Kael to the throne. The blade passed through the silk like it was smoke. There was no resistance. The web wasn't physical; it was a conceptual knot made of every bond the pack had ever signed. "You can't cut a thought, Ronan," Iyanla said. Her silver eyes didn't blink. She reached out and grabbed a thread that looked like a vein of violet fire.

The tires of my SUV crunch over broken branches and gravel until I pull up next to a small, abandoned warehouse hidden behind the trees. I kill the headlights, step out into the damp night air, and walk straight through the rusted metal doors where a single lightbulb is swinging. Kael is sitting right in the middle of the floor on a wooden chair, his hands tied tightly behind his back and a blindfold covering his eyes.