The Thread Collectors Novels & Stories

I said. Marcus was quiet for a moment. "The thread," he said. "The active reconnection capability." He paused. "Not for reconnecting the thread. The thread is already connected." He paused. "For communication through the thread." He paused. "If the western community has been organized around the function's presence since before Lyra, their bloodline carries the specific receptivity to the function's translation." He paused. "The same receptivity the third healer carried. The same quality Dren's territory maintained." He paused. "Stronger than any of those." He paused. "The original recognizers." He paused. "They will feel the function's direct attention through the thread without the functio

But his eyes were focused and his stride was steady. "Your wolves?" he asked. "All in," I said. Something shifted briefly in his expression. "Good. Walk me through the threading." I pulled out the rough map I had drawn during the battle, marked with the seven anchor points I had identified by tracking the corruption lines back from their visible damage. Jacob crouched beside me and studied it without speaking while I explained. "Seven threads are still active and sustaining Korran," I said. "They run underground. You cannot see them but you can feel them if you know what to look for. Each one connects back to a buried anchor, and each anchor feeds the next one in sequence."

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.

“This place is compromised.” “The thread,” Silas reminded him, gesturing to the shimmering potential on the ground. “We can’t leave it.” “You carry it,” Kairi commanded, his tone brooking no argument. His attention was a locked system, and I was the only program running. He would not be distracted again. A flicker of annoyance crossed Silas’s face, but he bent and carefully picked up the thread. It pulsed in his hand, and he shuddered, a brief spasm of what might have been avarice or profound discomfort.

I said, clutching a sharp knife. "I don't know. I told everything I know" he plead.I can smell a bad smell.He peed in his pants. "Oh really so you don't know the person who hired you to kill her" I said, stabbing his shoulder. "Aahh I don't know.She sent me money. She talked with me from different sims. I seriously don't know.Please leave me" "Aaah " He screamed when I push the knife more and slash his shoulder.

Walking to the guards, I presented my invitation card and they let me through the entrance. As I carefully walked up the stairs, paying attention to every step I took to avoid a misstep and falling down the staircase, I heard a reverberating sound echoing, as the car approached I could hear the low, menacing growl emanating from the exhaust hints at the tremendous power that laid within.

Damon asked, his brow furrowing, Derrek leaned forward, eyes sharp. “We picked up a fluctuation in the thread field last night. At first, it was faint, and barely there, almost an impossible phenomenon after subject zero had disappeared completely. But then, two hours ago, we detected a spike of his unique energy thread.” “Thread energy?Damon thought. He hadn't even known he had said it out aloud. Beta Rowan nodded grimly. “And not just any signature. It carried the same strain as subject zero we lost… but…”

Then stopped. Because Thread itself added: “Provisional.” Good. Current Lucas stared into the depth. “Are there still fake me’s?” Thread answered: “There are Lucas-patterns.” “Are they me?” “No.” “Are they people?” “Some may become.” “Are some just you?” “Yes.” Lucas thought. “Can you stop making new ones?” Thread paused. “I can stop deliberately generating them.” “Do that.” “Yes.” Current Lucas looked at Elena. “That was easier than most chapters.”

The Collector's mark wasn't a brand but a web, hundreds of tiny magical threads wound together like rope. She selected a single thread and pulled. Carol gasped as one line of her mark faded. Not broken violently, but carefully unraveled. The difference was immediate - no screaming, no convulsions. Just a soft sigh as part of the binding loosened. "Good," Aria said. "Continue." Thread by thread, Wendy unwave the mark. It took twenty minutes instead of twenty seconds, but Carol remained conscious throughout. When the last thread dissolved, the woman collapsed into a chair, exhausted but smiling.

the Finality asks. Before I can answer, the gap tears open again and the Collectors return, dozens of them forcing their way in. “We detect multiple reality-breakers in one location,” they announce. “Shepherds who manipulated cosmic law, Void-Dead who broke death, all of you qualify for collection. We’re claiming everyone in this gap for our archive.” The Shepherds and the Void-Dead and the three thousand regular dead all turn to face the new threat. “We were fighting each other,” the lead Shepherd says to me. “But the Collectors are worse. They preserve consciousness in eternal stasis. That’s a fate worse than anything we’ve done to each other.”