Shit.
My stomach hollows out and I’m back on my knees, fingers rushing to scoop them up as fast as I can before I turn and shove them beneath my pillow.
There must be at least twenty. Maybe more.
When I stand, Neeve is watching me with both brows raised, mouth twitching like she’s already pieced together far more than I want her to, but I ignore her completely and turn back to Ezzy before she can say another word. “Do you know how it works?”
“I... I think so.” Ezzy runs a hand over her short blonde hair, smoothing it down. “So we know everything contains Threads, and most of the time those Threads appear fixed to one particular place at any given moment.”
“But Threads aren't fixed,” Neeve cuts in, “they move, we can release them.”
“Well, yes.” Ezzy nods, her sparkly hairpin catching in the candlelight. “They can move and shift between things, but if you could somehow freeze a single instant in time and look closely enough, you’d still find each Thread anchored toonespecific location—whether that’s inside us, released into the air around us, or attached to other elements.” She hesitates slightly. “But there’s a theory that maybe Threads don’t always want to stay fixed to only one place.”
My forehead creases in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“Well, instead of existing in one exact location, it’s more like Threads want to occupy a haze of possible positions, but they’re held in place by an anchor. Most of the time that anchor keeps them fixed strongly enough that they appear stable. But with enough force—enough magic—that anchor can loosen, and for a moment the Threads stop being fixed to one place and could exist across multiple possible places all at once.” She glances at the Letter-threader. “From what I’ve heard, the magic in the flame breaks the letter’s current anchor, and the paired device gives the Threads somewhere new to settle.”
“Holy shit, like teleporting?” I ask.
“I guess, sort of.” Ezzy’s mouth twists. “But not like a magical portal. Think of it like this: your device breaks the letter down into its smallest parts, and the twin device that Talen has forces new Threads to take the exact same shape somewhere else.”
“Wow,” Neeve gasps. “So the note doesn't move, the original is destroyed but a new one is made somewhere else?” She passes the Letter-threader back to me. “Could people do it?”
Ezzy hums, and I can’t help the smile that tugs at the corner of my mouth. It’s so good to see her mind working again. “I mean, intheory, I guess it’s possible, but I’m not sure they could survive being unanchored.”
“Why?” I press, taking the golden device, the metal cold in my hands.
“Well, a letter’s simple.” She continues. “Paper, ink, a few fixed patterns, but a person... a person is thousands of anchors all holding at once, blood, bone. Memory. Threads moving through Threads moving through Threads... To unanchor all of that at the same time and expect it to settle somewhere else in the exact same shape…” She shakes her head once. “Threads could tear, or tangle, or reform wrong. You might get the body and lose the mind. Or move the mind and leave half the body behind.”
A chill slips down my spine. “That’s kind of creepy...”
“Yeah, andeven ifthey did survive, the person who left might not be the person who arrives... they may have your face. Your memories. Your voice. But whether that would still be you…” She swallows. “I don’t know...”
“Stars, you're smart.” Neeve shakes her head in disbelief. “How do you know all this?”
Ezzy smiles, and my heart practically sings as I watch it spread across her face.
“Thanks,” she whispers, lifting a shy shoulder. “But actually, it was my friend Brian who?—”
She stops.
Just stops.
The smile slips from her face so quickly it feels like watching a candle go out. “Sorry,” she mutters, her throat bobbing. “It’s been a long day.”
Brian.
Guilt slams into the fragile warmth that had been building under my skin, crushing it flat as she lowers herself back down and turns away from us.
I don’t push.
I don’t try to coax the rest of the sentence out of her—because I’m the reason he’s gone.
Wood creaks beneath me as my shoulders fold inward and I sink onto my own bed.
“That’s a good sign.” Neeve whispers as she sits down beside me, nodding toward Ezzy. “She will come around.” I pull my mouth into a half smile and for a moment we sit there in silence, but then Neeve turns her attention back to me. “I know what you’re doing,” she gestures to my pillow, where I’ve done a terrible job at hiding the letters, still half-poking out.
“And what’s that?” I turn away from her, shoving them farther under.
