Eleanor stayed on the cold stone floor longer than she meant to. Her knees had grown stiff against it, but she kept her weight there because moving felt like breaking the fragile stillness she neded. The practice chamber was quiet in a way that pressed against her ears. Her resonance compass rested beside her palm, the etched crystal disk giving off its faint vibration, steady and patient, as though waiting for her to catch her breath.
She dragged her fingers across the device, tracing the lines carved for her Multisigil. Every Laceliner received a compass like this. They were taught early that without it, the Interlace would turn into a maze without direction. The crystal disk read the threads that stretched across universes, and those threads never stayed still. She had grown used to the soft vibration, the small pulses that told her how close or far a thread had drifted. Her professors always said the compass was a second heartbeat, one that followed the Interlace instead of blood.
She laid her palm over the crystal. A subtle warmth spread from her collarbone as her Multisigil stirred. The compass responded instantly. Its central needle vibrated, steady and rhythmic. Slow pulses meant the thread was stable. She exhaled. That part was familiar. Slow pulses meant she could step closer without fear of the Interlace collapsing. Too many fluctuations meant danger. She remembered the warnings. The Interlace turned unstable when agitation built up, and instability always pulled in creatures that fed on it. She still felt the memory of that day, the way her breath had gone sharp when she saw the first hint of the Nullith. Her hands went cold just thinking about it.
She dug into her pocket and pulled out her Anchor Ring. The silver band was cool and smooth. Inside, tiny engravings followed the patterns of her Multisigil. She turned it between her fingers for a moment, calming herself with the familiar weight. Anchor Rings were the simplest way to keep a thread from slipping. Threads stretched instead of opening, and without something to keep them steady, they snapped like worn fabric. The ring allowed resonance from her body to meet the thread in a steady link. She had practiced the sequence so many times that muscle memory did most of the work for her.
She slid the band on. The ring fit snugly, and the compass needle tightened its pattern, the pulses shifting into a stronger rhythm. She shut her eyes, letting the sequence settle. Her instructors always repeated the same order, and she had memorized it like breath. Start the compass. Read it. Match her Multisigil to the thread. Secure the anchor. Then say the mantra. The steps sounded simple when listed, but every part had a thousand chances to fail.
Her fingers flexed as she prepared for the next part of the process, but the door opened behind her. The sound scraped across her nerves. She stopped everything. Her Multisigil dimmed on her skin. The compass went still under her palm.
A man stood at the entrance, outlined by the dim light of the corridor. His posture was relaxed, but his presence felt solid. He had hazel streaks in his brown hair, and his glasses caught the glow from the stones around them. His uniform was crisp. She always noticed how neat he looked even when he was adjusting instruments in the Resonance Chambers. She saw him often enough to know he was Mr. Croft's assistant. He usually stayed behind the panels and machines, calibrating resonance monitors and recording fluctuations. She had never seen him speak to students.
"What are you doing here? Chambers are closed." His voice was calm, but the finality in it made her stomach twist.
Eleanor picked herself up quickly, brushing the dust from her palms even though it only smeared more across her fingers. She forced herself to stand straight. "I know. I just needed a short time. I was hoping you might let me use the chamber for a few minutes."
His response came instantly. "No. You should go home." He lifted the ring of keys he held, and the sound echoed through the chamber.
She stepped forward before she could stop herself. "Please. Only a few minutes."
He gave her a long look that made something tighten in her chest. "I know what you're trying to do." He walked toward her slowly, each step measured. "It is dangerous. No one is allowed to attempt Stitching alone. You failed your First Stitching. That means you are not allowed to try again without an instructor."
His words struck harder than she expected. She felt her breath shorten, something bitter rising in her throat. So the news had spread. Her failure had not stayed in the shadows. She had tried to pretend her shame could be carried quietly, that the memory would fade. She should have known better. Everyone at Lumenrift knew her mother's achievements. They would always compare her to Elizabeth Kostova no matter what she did.
Eleanor forced air into her lungs. "I did enter the Interlace."
The words slipped out before she could decide whether she wanted to say them. She needed someone to know she had not failed completely. Her mother had not listened. Her professors only saw the incomplete records. She wanted the truth to sit somewhere outside her own head.
He raised an eyebrow. "Every complete Stitching shows the same phases. First the thin veil. Then the shift in light. Then disappearance. You did not reach the last stage." He paused. "It means the attempt was incomplete."
She swallowed hard. "I know."
His tone shifted, softer now. "It was not the worst failure. Mine was worse."
She stared at him, unsure whether to believe him. Something about the way he said it made her pause. "You failed yours?"
He nodded once. "Yes. I did not connect to a stable point."
She tried to read his expression. She had no idea if he meant to comfort her or simply wanted to share a truth. "You need to find your variant self in the target universe. That is the anchor. I know that part."
He let out a small laugh, the corners of his mouth lifting. "Yes. I know. I had trouble with that. I failed Onto Symmetry."
That surprised her enough to soften her shoulders. Onto Symmetry was a course she had once dreaded. It dealt with identifying her alternate selves across potential universes. She remembered how exhausting it had been, how complex the calculations felt before she understood that most of the process came down to recognizing the way her Multisigil reacted to resonance echoes. Students often said losing track of the variant was like losing the ground beneath them. If he had failed that course, then his failure during his first attempt made sense. No compass would help if the variant self could not be found.
He leaned slightly closer. "I practiced alone too. Many times. It did nothing for me."
Eleanor straightened, feeling heat rise in her chest again. "We are different. I know where I went wrong. I can do better if I try again."
He studied her face. She held his gaze, refusing to look away. She did not want him to think she was fragile. She wanted him to see someone capable. Finally, he exhaled. "Fine. I will give you thirty minutes. No more." He stepped back toward the door. "I will wait here."
Relief nearly spilled out of her too fast. She caught it in her throat before it turned into a thank you that sounded too eager. She did not even know his name. It did not matter. He had given her time.
When the door shut behind him, the chamber wrapped around her again. The compass waited. The Anchor Ring pressed warm against her skin. Her Multisigil drifted into its familiar thrum.
She breathed deeply. Her first Stitching had thrown her back into solid ground, shaken and ashamed. The Nullith had appeared like a shadow that had no place in the thread she touched. She had run from it with her heart hammering. Her mother had said worse things than failure. Eleanor tried not to hold those words, but they clung to the back of her mind.
She pressed her palm over the compass again. Her Multisigil brightened. The first pulse spread through her chest. She began the mantra. It flowed through her lips with the ease of repetition, steady and grounding. The air shifted. Light blurred. The chamber around her bent, stretching into glowing strands that rose like bridges of shimmering lines.
She stood in the Interlace again.
The threads were sharper this time. She reached toward one that shone brighter than the rest. Her hand trembled, but she kept it steady. She felt the compass picking up resonance, but the needle spun in confused circles. Her stomach dropped. She remembered Onto Symmetry. A thread without a variant meant the Interlace had no point where she existed on the other side. No variant meant she could not anchor. No anchor meant danger.
She gripped the Anchor Ring tighter. She whispered her mantra faster. The threads kept blinking blank. Then the air shifted. The bright lines dimmed. A deep vibration rolled through the strands. She felt the presence before she saw the shape forming.
The Nullith pulled itself forward, tall and thin, bending at angles that made her breath turn sharp. It stretched across the glowing surface, reaching for the thread she had aimed for.
Her hands shook harder. Her body wanted to step back. She forced her feet to stay in place. She wanted to prove herself, to try again, to reach the other side. The Nullith lowered itself toward her. She felt her heartbeat thrum painfully against her chest. She did not have protection this time. No instructor. No shield lace. Nothing except her Anchor Ring.
She pressed the ring into her Multisigil. The resonance sparked sharply. Her anchor token burned in an instant. She felt the link snap, pulling her thread away. The Interlace collapsed around her. She fell backward into her universe.
Her back hit the floor. Air punched out of her lungs. She gasped, shaking violently. Sweat clung to her temples, and her throat locked tight. She had escaped. She tried to steady her breath.
The chamber around her flickered. Light above her cracked like glass. She scrambled back, pushing her spine against the nearest stone column. Her pulse raced. She stared at the fractures forming overhead.
A shape forced itself out through them.
The Nullith dragged into her world, its form unstable, its limbs stretched in angles that scraped against the air. It looked worse here. The strain of this place tore at its edges. The fractures pulsed around it. She could not move at first. Fear pinned her down.
The Nullith staggered. Its body quivered. Parts of it melted away into thin streaks that vanished into the air. The fractures broke closed one by one, each one snapping more of the creature away. It jolted violently before dissolving into nothing.
She stayed curled against the column, arms tight around herself, breath shaking out in uneven bursts. Relief hit first. Then the realization. She had pulled a Nullith into her universe. The rules never spoke of this happening. No one at Lumenrift had recorded it.
The door burst open. Light spilled in. She looked up.
The assistant stepped inside quickly, scanning the chamber with narrowed eyes. His glasses caught the weak glow from the stones. His jaw tightened. "I thought I heard you. Are you alright?"
She pushed herself upright even though her legs trembled. "I should go home." Her voice cracked. She steadied it. "Thank you for letting me stay."
He watched her carefully. Something in his expression hinted at suspicion. She moved past him before he could ask anything more. The door closed behind her. The sound followed her down the hall, too loud in her ears.