The moon was giving me weird looks.
"I know what you did," I whispered to it in my head.
It stared back, crescent and smug.
---
We wandered through the village, which I was beginning to realize wasn't entirely normal. No chickens. No loud neighbors. Just oddly polite humans who never made eye contact and smelled vaguely like burnt parchment.
Nylessa, naturally, was glowing faintly with magic and menace. She wore robes stitched with glimmering thread that occasionally twitched on their own.
Was that a design feature? Or a horror feature?
Both.
"Where are we going?" I mumbled babyishly.
"To breathe in the stars," she replied, like a totally normal person.
We walked past a man chasing his own hat, which floated away in the air like it had a vendetta. No one helped him. Everyone just nodded solemnly like, "Ah yes, the Tuesday Hat Trials."
I activated my Emotion Vision—still the coolest thing I've discovered in this weird rebirth gig.
A soft glow painted the village. Most people had the usual feelings: tiredness, love, boredom, mild anxiety that they might be in a fantasy novel.
But one thread stood out. It was gray. Like, really gray. Depressing sock gray.
"What's that one?" I asked.
Nylessa followed my gaze to a fox lying limp near an old man's feet.
"Oh," she said. "It's almost time."
"Time for what?"
"Thread breakage."
Cool. That sounded ominous and completely normal.
---
The old man whispered a prayer. Probably something like, "Great Loom, please don't make me cry in front of this baby."
I was staring at the gray sorrow-thread. It curled around the fox's chest like a leash.
I reached out, barely thinking.
"Keal, don't—" Nylessa warned, way too late.
My finger brushed the thread.
A jolt. The fox twitched. Its nose wiggled. Then it sneezed and stood up like it had merely overslept.
The old man cried. Then he fainted.
Nylessa stood there, eyebrows raised so high they might have filed for celestial citizenship.
"Did I just…"
"You nudged a thread," she said.
"Like... moved it?"
"Yes."
"That's not normal, is it?"
"No."
"Do I get a sticker?"
"No."
Rude.
---
Back at the cottage, Nylessa tucked me in while staring at me like I was a very cute bomb.
"You shouldn't be able to do that," she muttered.
"Well I did. Maybe I'm just gifted."
"You're something. Sleep."
She blew out the magical candles, which made a noise like disappointed sighs, and left.
I stared at the ceiling. Threads hovered faintly above it, glowing like lazy fireflies.
Then I saw the gray one again.
It slipped in through the wall like it owned the place.
I didn't touch it this time.
It hovered above me.
Then twitched.
Then...
A voice. Dry as parchment.
"That wasn't supposed to happen."
I froze.
"Nylessa?"
No reply.
The thread disappeared. The air got colder. Somewhere far away, a god sneezed.
I stared at the ceiling and whispered, "Note to self: stop fixing foxes."
---