I couldn't sleep.
Kael's words had rooted themselves into my chest like thorns.
Desire doesn't care about love. It cares about obsession.
What did that mean for me and Riven? For the way our threads called to each other like magnetic fire?
Back in my chamber, I started searching the Archive again—only this time, I wasn't looking for my Mark.
I was looking for the Threadfire Rebellion.
At first, the glyphs resisted me. Questions vanished from the air before they finished forming. Threads untangled mid-search.
But then… I whispered Kael's name.
And a hidden vault opened.
Inside it: records burned along the edges, glowing with remnants of forbidden knowledge. Maps. Symbols. Names—Nyra & Vael Venn.
Venn. My last name.
They weren't strangers.
They were family.
My great-grandparents.
The first bonded pair of Desire Thread Marked.
And they died not in battle, as the Council claimed, but in self-immolation—burning themselves to sever their connection before it tore the Threadveil apart.
I stared at the image burned into the wall—two figures, surrounded by red flame, hands still joined as they disappeared into light.
My skin tingled.
The Council had lied to everyone.
A knock at the chamber door jolted me. A minder entered without waiting.
"You're summoned," he said flatly. "Council chamber. Now."
I followed him in silence—heart hammering louder than my footsteps.
Inside, the Council sat like statues, cold and unmoving.
The First Weaver spoke. "Your Mark has grown more active. We sense your bond with Riven… deepening."
I said nothing.
"We warned you of imbalance. We warned him, too. And now, because of you, the blade of prophecy has begun to stir."
He raised his hand—and a projection of Riven appeared.
But not the one I knew.
He was kneeling. Shackled. Surrounded by flame.
"Riven has refused to sever the thread," the Weaver said. "And as such, he will be judged by the Blade of Null."
I stepped forward, fire igniting under my skin.
"You can't kill him just because he feels something."
"Desire is dangerous," another Councilor hissed. "Your bond is proof."
Then I said it. Clearly. Loudly.
"I won't let you touch him."
The chamber darkened. Threads sparked above me, reacting to my rage.
The First Weaver's voice dropped. "Then you will burn with him."
---