The Unmaker screamed.
Not with sound—but with memory.
The threads it pulled from the air shimmered with fragments of voices, past moments, lost kisses. Each one was a life, a feeling, a truth that had once meant something.
And it was devouring them.
Kael was the first to move, diving behind a fallen archway. "It's pulling thread essence from everything—us, included!"
Riven gritted his teeth, planting his feet against the pull. "If it keeps feeding, it'll collapse the Veil."
Lyra stood unmoved, her cloak flaring like wings, watching the chaos like she'd already accepted the end.
"You always wanted freedom, Sera," she said. "But some bonds can't be healed. Some only hurt."
"No," I snapped, pushing forward through the gale of memory, the Desire Mark on my hand burning hot. "You just forgot how to feel."
Then—an idea struck.
The Threadveil had always been delicate, yes… but beneath it all, every soul was tied to a single core bond. A thread no Unmaker could touch unless it was offered.
"The Anchor Thread," I whispered. "It's the first thread. The one that formed when we were born."
Kael's eyes widened. "If you use it to bind the Unmaker, you'll sever it from the weave."
"And?" Riven asked sharply.
"You'll lose it, Sera," Kael warned. "The part of you that makes you... you."
I looked at Riven.
His eyes were full of defiance and sorrow, all wrapped in one storm.
"I'd rather give up who I was," I said softly, "than lose what we're becoming."
And with that, I lifted my hands—and reached inward.
It hurt.
Like pulling a song from my ribs.
But I found it: my Anchor Thread. Pale violet, flickering with all my earliest truths. My first laugh. My first fear. My first desire.
And I cast it into the Unmaker.
The machine howled.
The corrupted threads writhed, recoiling from the purity of the Anchor. It struggled, but the Anchor sank deep, wrapping around the loom's core.
One by one, the stolen threads released—floating free like butterflies escaping a storm.
Lyra screamed—not in rage, but in grief.
"No! You don't get to save them!"
But it was too late.
The Unmaker collapsed, folding in on itself in a burst of silver flame.
Silence fell.
My knees buckled, but Riven caught me, arms steady and strong.
"Are you okay?" he whispered.
I smiled faintly.
"I don't know who I am without it."
"You're ours," he said, his Mark glowing in sync with mine. "That's all that matters."
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