---
Alucent's hand still rested on the pouch where the Journal sat dormant, and his heartbeat had not yet settled from the conversation he had just ended. He straightened his spine and ignored the dull ache in his ribs. His damp curls clung to his forehead, so he ran a hand through them and tugged the collar of the hotel shirt straight.
Ah. It's Scribe Joy. What could she be here for?
He glanced once at the pouch. It was still and dark and gave no sign of what had just occurred inside it.
"Come in."
The latch clicked and the door swung inward.
Joy stood in the frame with her blonde hair catching the turquoise light from the arched windows. She had changed out of the hotel outfit and into a simple grey dress with clean lines and practical fabric. Her torn veil was gone. Without it, Alucent noticed faint lines at the corners of her blue eyes that he had not seen before. Not age. Wear.
She hesitated at the threshold. Her gloved hand rested on the doorframe while her gaze swept the room once before settling on him.
Alucent shifted on the mattress, and the railway suspension creaked beneath him. He gestured toward the space beside him.
"Sit. Please."
She crossed the room and settled next to him. The bed dipped under her weight. She was close enough now that he caught the herbal scent still clinging to her from the forest. Silverbind and thornroot. Medicinal and sharp.
"So." Her voice was quiet. "What was wrong with you?"
Alucent blinked. "Wrong?"
"You left the lounge quite suddenly. You said you were tired." She folded her hands in her lap and looked at him directly. "Your eyes were elsewhere. I have learned to notice such things."
He rubbed his palms together. The skin was rough from the bath and pruned at the fingertips. "There is nothing wrong with me. I just wanted to rest."
Joy did not look away. "You should not hide things from me, Alucent. Not after what we survived together." She paused and let the words settle. "I came to speak with you alone because I could tell something was weighing on you."
Alucent exhaled slowly and his shoulders dropped a fraction.
"It is the mission." He looked toward the window where the turquoise moon was beginning its ascent beyond the glass. "This place. The peace here. I keep wishing it would continue, but I know it will not."
His jaw tightened as he turned back to her.
"What Tyranix said about you not making it through. About the road being lined with blades." He met her eyes. "If that is true, then it might extend to the rest of us. To Raya. To Gryan. To me."
Joy was quiet.
The silence stretched long enough that Alucent could hear the soft hum of the drive shaft overhead and the distant clatter of pipes in the hotel walls.
Then she spoke.
"I have been thinking about it as well." Her voice was low but steady. "I am confident I will not lose my life on this journey. I have prepared for situations like this for years. Even if everything turns against us, I will hold tight and I will not let go."
Her gloved fingers curled against her knees.
"But." The word came out softer. "After our battle with Tyranix, I have been thinking of something else."
Alucent waited.
"Advancing. To Thread 4."
The words hung in the air between them.
Joy looked down at her hands. The grey kid leather was worn at the fingertips and the seams were beginning to fray. She turned them over slowly as if seeing them for the first time.
"I have passed Acceptance. That phase is complete. All that remains is to perform the Etch for Goldscribe." She swallowed. "But even speaking of it now, I am afraid."
Her voice dropped to barely above a whisper.
"What if I do not etch successfully? What if I become corrupted? What if I have to be put down like the ones who sought too much knowledge of Anima?"
She lifted her gaze to meet his.
"This fear is part of why I stayed at Thread 3 for so long. I told myself it was caution. Wisdom." She shook her head slowly. "The encounter with Tyranix showed me what caution truly costs."
Another silence settled between them.
Then Joy turned the question back on him.
"How have you done it, Alucent? How have you coped with advancing so quickly? Three months. That should not be possible, and yet here you are." Her voice held no accusation. Only curiosity. "How do you carry it?"
Alucent stared at his own hands. They were pale against his dark trousers. The veins on his left forearm were still faintly visible beneath the skin. The Weave Anchor ring sat on his finger, and the Valerius Signet rested beside it.
He did not answer immediately. His mind went somewhere else. The memory surfaced in fragments, not as nostalgia but as data retrieval. The cottage in Eryndral on the night after Verdant Hollow. The leather cover warming under his fingers when he first touched it. The cyan light spilling from the seams. The voice that called him Scion and told him his father had prepared him for this burden. The black veins spreading up his arm while his nose bled onto the floorboards. He had sat there until dawn, shaking.
He looked at Joy.
"Honestly?" His voice came out rougher than he intended. "I do not know. Whatever happened is still not fully clear to me."
His thumb traced the edge of the Signet.
"But right now I have to pass Acceptance. What would I do if there is another encounter like the one with Tyranix? I was almost useless." His voice caught, and he forced it steady. "If not for you, I am sure I would be dead by now."
Joy's expression softened, and she opened her mouth to speak, but he continued.
"I appreciate what you did. Truly." He met her eyes. "But even with all your years of advancement, you still were not a match for him."
The words landed hard. Joy did not flinch, but something behind her eyes dimmed.
"You are right." Alucent's voice gentled. "You need to advance. And I need to pass Acceptance. Any way I can."
He fell silent. After a long breath, something shifted in his face. Not quite sadness. Something older.
"Scribe Joy." His voice was quieter now. "How did you do it? Pass the last phase of Thread 3."
He looked down at his hands again. "I have been stuck here for a while. I keep wondering how you managed it."
Joy studied him for a long moment. The turquoise moonlight caught the edge of her jaw and the curve of her cheek. Then she smiled. It was small and gentle.
"You do not need to be like me, Alucent."
He blinked.
"I did not reach Thread 3 in three months. Nine years. That was my path." She tilted her head slightly, and a strand of blonde hair slipped over her shoulder. "Yours is different. Unique. You must follow your own way."
She reached out and hesitated for only a breath before resting her gloved hand briefly on his.
"As I said before, when we reach Runepeaks we will study together. We will discuss your advancement. What it means. Why it happened." She withdrew her hand and folded it back in her lap. "But do not try to walk my road. It will not fit you."
Alucent stared at her. Then he looked down at his hands once more. The rings glinted in the pale light.
He raised his head.
"Alright. I hear you." A pause. "I cannot wait to get to Runepeaks."
Joy nodded once. The smile lingered at the corners of her lips. "That is good."
She smoothed her skirt and rose from the bed. "I will take my leave now. Rest. Truly rest, this time."
She walked to the door. Alucent watched the line of her shoulders beneath the grey fabric and the way her blonde hair fell past her waist.
The door opened. She glanced back once. Then she was gone.
The latch clicked shut.
Alucent sat alone. The hum of the drive shaft filled the silence, and the turquoise moonlight crept across the floor in slow increments.
I can only rely on the Cold Scribe method.
He pressed his thumb against the Signet, feeling the carved bone bite into his skin.
I am not even sure if anyone else has done it. If the method works, I will teach it to Raya and Gryan once we reach Runepeaks. Once they choose their path and etch for the first time.
His brow furrowed.
But would they even be Rune Scribes? Four people in the same Threadweave. Is that normal?
His mind picked up speed.
Why is only the Rune Threadweave available to us? Tyranix proved there are others. Folly exists. The Journal confirmed it knows of more. So why are they hidden?
He pressed his thumb harder against the bone ring.
Is the Green Council hiding them? Do they even know?
Tyranix had been sent. Someone had dispatched a Folly Threadweaver to intercept them. That meant knowledge of other Threadweaves existed somewhere in the structures of power.
So why the secrecy? What are they afraid of?
He looked toward the window. The turquoise moon hung pale and patient above the rooftops.
More reason to reach Runepeaks. Everything about the Threadweaves resides there. The oldest records. The deepest archives. His jaw tightened. I will find answers.
---
The house on Henderson Lane was modest by the standards of Mossgrove Arc. Two stories of ivy wrapped stone with brass fixtures that gleamed dully in the fading light. Inside the parlor, a leather armchair faced a low table of dark wood, and a decanter of red wine sat breathing on a silver tray.
Tyranix sat with his legs crossed and the glass balanced in his fingers. He swirled the wine once and watched the light catch in its depths.
His suit was dark grey and tailored precisely. Brass buttons winked as he shifted. His hair was combed back from his temples, neat and deliberate.
He had not expected the assignment. A simple assassination. Cut the threads. Report back. That was the order.
But the woman had matched him. Not in power, for she was still only Thread 3. But in resolve. And the boy.
Tyranix took a slow sip and let the wine rest on his tongue before swallowing.
Alucent Luci.
He had seen the potential the moment the boy activated Thread 1 perception. Raw. Unpolished. Desperate. But three months from Runeling to Silverline. That was not normal.
Such a person has not been seen before. Not in the Seventh Myric.
He swirled the glass again.
I could have killed him. One more punch. One more inversion. He was already broken.
His brow furrowed slightly.
So, What stopped me? Fate? Some thread I cannot see?
He did not believe in fate. He was Folly. He unraveled perception and inverted certainty. Fate was just another story people told themselves.
Or was it anticipation?
He set the glass down on the tray and leaned back in the armchair. The leather creaked beneath him.
Watching him grow. Seeing what someone who advanced to Thread 3 in three months might become. What he might reach for. Whether he would break in the reaching.
A faint smile crossed his lips.
Yes. That is closer to the truth.
He picked up the glass and took another sip. The wine was warm now, losing its edge.
I need to report back. Should I tell them I killed the targets?
The smile widened slightly.
Yes. That should do it. Let them believe the threads are cut. Give the boy time. Give the woman time.
He raised the glass toward the window. Toward the turquoise moon that hung over Mossgrove Arc.
Let them grow. Let them surprise me.
He drank.
---
The turquoise moonlight fell through the arched windows of the Blum room and cast long shadows across the emerald velvet curtains. Raya lay on her back and stared at the rotating drive shaft overhead. Her chestnut hair was loose and spread across the pillow, but sleep refused to come.
Across the room, Joy sat on the edge of her bed and brushed her blonde hair with slow, rhythmic strokes.
Raya propped herself up on one elbow and grinned.
"So."
Joy did not look up. "So?"
"I saw you."
The brush paused for only a heartbeat, then resumed its motion.
"Saw me where?"
Raya's grin widened. "Entering the boys' room. Alucent's room. Alone." She drew out the last word. "I tailed you. You did not notice."
Joy's hand stilled. The brush hovered mid stroke.
Then she laughed. It was a soft sound, surprised and genuine, and it lit her face.
"You must be very skilled at stealth missions." She set the brush down on the nightstand and turned to face Raya fully. "I did not hear you at all."
Raya shrugged, still grinning. "I have my talents."
Joy's expression grew thoughtful. "I hope there is a Threadweave that suits you. I do not know of any beyond Rune, but since Folly exists there must be an explanation. If I can search the archives at Runepeaks thoroughly, I may find others."
Raya nodded. The teasing glint in her eyes softened into something more serious.
Then it sharpened again.
"You avoided answering the question."
Joy blinked. "What question?"
"Do you like Alucent already?"
Joy's cheeks flushed. It was faint but visible even in the turquoise moonlight. She opened her mouth. Closed it.
Then she shrugged. The motion was light and almost dismissive, but the smile that accompanied it was private. She reached up and brushed her fingers through her blonde hair, smoothing it back from her face.
"It is late, Raya. We must wake early tomorrow. The journey continues."
Raya laughed and flopped back onto her pillow. "True."
She pulled the covers up to her chin and watched as Joy settled across the room. Joy lay down with quiet grace, her hair fanning across the pillow and her hands folded over the blanket.
Raya closed her eyes. The turquoise moonlight pressed against her lids. Pipes hummed somewhere in the hotel. Gears turned. The great water pressured clock ticked through its eternal rhythm.
Sleep came slowly. But it came.