Kivra awoke with an unseen thread tugging at her core, the air tasting faintly of copper. Sprawled across a shimmering floor of liquid glass, she gasped as it rippled with every breath. Suddenly, a man with eyes like polished stone loomed over her, unblinking and eerily still. His name surfaced in her mind unbidden: Toren. Though unfamiliar, he felt known.
“Where am I?” Her voice cracked, raw from disuse.
Toren tilted his head with mechanical precision. “You’re here because you pulled.”
“Pulled what?” Scrambling to her feet, Kivra trembled as the floor steadied beneath her. Meanwhile, the room’s edges blurred into a haze of shifting light.
Instead of replying, he reached out, brushing the air. A faint hum vibrated through her skull, and suddenly, she sensed it—a thread, invisible yet heavy, pulling at her chest. Far from a metaphor, it tugged her toward an unseen force.
The Unseen Thread Starts to Unravel
Before this moment, Kivra thrived on order. She crafted routines like fortifications against chaos. Now, however, chaos consumed her entirely. Toren offered no explanations, merely observing as she stumbled through the haze, chasing the unseen thread. Moreover, it pulsed not just in her chest but also in her mind and bones, weaving through every thought.
“You’ve always felt it,” Toren said at last, his voice humming inside her. “You just didn’t recognize it.”
“What is it?” she demanded, clenching her fists tightly.
He flashed a thin, sharp smile. “Your tether. Your anchor. The force that defines you.”
Those words struck her like stones. Although she didn’t fully grasp them, the thread tightened, flooding her with images: her childhood, her first love, quiet evenings alone. She recognized her memories, yet they felt borrowed.
A Glimpse Beyond the Thread
Time blurred in this strange place—days, perhaps, melding together seamlessly. Toren guided her silently as she traced the unseen thread through shifting realms. For instance, a forest of crystalline trees morphed into a city of floating platforms. Each step intensified the thread’s pull.
Then, she spotted a figure ahead, mirrored yet distinct from her. This woman shared Kivra’s face, voice, and habits but radiated strength and joy. Laughing—a sound Kivra hadn’t uttered in years—she triggered a stronger pulse in the thread.
“Is that… me?” Kivra whispered softly.
“No,” Toren replied. “That’s who pulls.”
Her stomach churned violently. This wasn’t a reflection. Rather, the woman controlled the unseen thread.
The Twist That Rewrites the Unseen Thread
Kivra confronted her, voice shaking with urgency. “Who are you? Why am I here?”
Turning slowly, the woman met her with soft, piercing eyes. “I’m the one who dreamed you.”
The world spun wildly. As the woman stepped closer, the thread thrummed between them. “You’re not real, Kivra—not as you believe. I shaped you—every choice, pain, and joy. You’re my tether, letting me feel what I can’t.”
“What does that mean?” Kivra’s voice rose, desperate for answers. “I live. I feel. I exist!”
“You do,” the woman said gently. “Because I need you to. Trapped where nothing shifts, I rely on you as my thread to chaos.”
Toren interjected, his tone icy and clear. “She’s the origin. You’re the echo. She filters her life through you.”
Staggering back, Kivra reeled. Her memories weren’t stolen—they were bestowed. Thus, she existed as a vessel, dancing on an unseen thread she’d only now perceived.
The Choice That Breaks Reality
The woman extended a hand, hovering over the thread. “I can cut it,” she offered. “You’d be free, no longer mine. But I’d lose you, and you’d lose what makes you you.”
Kivra’s heart pounded fiercely. Freedom meant erasing herself—no past, no identity. Staying, however, meant embracing a lie, bound to another’s will.
What am I without my own essence? she wondered, the question gnawing at her. And what is she without me?
Glancing at Toren, she then faced the woman and chose. Grasping the thread, she pulled back with force.
The woman stumbled, gasping in shock. Although the thread stretched without snapping, its weight shifted. Suddenly, Kivra shed her echo status. Alien memories—vast and strange—flooded from the woman into her.
“You can’t—” the woman began, but the shift silenced her abruptly.
A Resolution That Lingers
Afterward, the haze faded, leaving Kivra alone with the slack thread in hand. She couldn’t tell where the woman—or Toren—had gone, or if they’d ever existed. Nevertheless, the weight persisted, heavier than before.
Freedom eluded her completely. No longer tethered, she became something undefined—neither origin nor echo. Her mind held a chaotic blend of her memories and the woman’s, impossible to untangle.
Venturing into the unknown, one question burned brightly: If I can pull back, who else can?
