The melody is thicker here, amidst the strands, a thousand songs all floating together at once. It's not discordant or jarring, just…a lot to take in. No wonder Zaroun is lost in his own mind so much. If he's seeing the stories of all these threads…I can't imagine. I take another step forward, and the threads part around me, giving way. They're all slightly different, this one coarse and yellow like yarn, this one silvery and so thin I can barely see it. I'd bet they all have different sounds, too, each life playing its own melody.
It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, and I just stare and stare.
"Most people reach out to try and touch," comes a voice to the side of me. I'm not entirely surprised that when I look over, I see one of the Spidae. He looks exactly like the one that just left, clothing and hair and all. Only the eyes are different. These are so pale that they might be colorless, and piercingly focused on me.
I shake my head. "I've messed up enough stuff lately. I just want to keep my nose clean at this point."
He makes a sound that might be laughter, might be derision. "But you are looking for your thread, are you not?"
"Or Kassam's," I say. "I'd like to see his. Mine would be close by, wouldn't it?"
The god inclines his head, still watching me with those intense eyes. "Do you think you can find them on your own?"
Is…this a test? Because I don't know that I can, or even if he truly wants me to. But if I say no, will I be condemning us to some sort of awful fate because I didn't even try? I hesitate and take a few steps, watching the threads drift through the air, caressing each other and separating, drifting close and knotting, then sliding apart once more. There's no focus, no rhythm, and yet it all seems perfectly orderly in its own way. I stare at the threads, looking for one that seems strong and sure and full of joy like Kassam is…and I look for a janky, torn thread to be attached to it. The sheer number of threads feels like an avalanche, though, and I quickly get confused and overwhelmed. "Do I lose some sort of bet if I say I can't find it?"
"No. This is no test. I am simply humoring my curiosity about how mortals behave." He continues to watch me from afar. "Would you like to see?"
"Are you Neska?" I counter, even as I move toward him.
"Who else do you think I could be?"
That's a shitty answer, considering that there's two other people that look just like him here in this tower. I suspect he's just being a dick, so I ignore it. "Yulenna said you wanted to talk to me?"
That icy gaze—funny how Kassam's silver eyes can be so warm and these so cold—focuses on my face. "I don't recall saying such a thing. You wished to speak to us, yes? Here we are." He spreads a hand. "You have a request, and I am benevolent enough to explain why it will not work."
I flinch, my heart feeling as if it's shattering at his casual words. "What do you mean, it won't work?"
He indicates I should follow him. "Let me show you your thread. All will be made clear."
Anxiety flares through me again. Something tells me I'm not going to like what I see. I remember Death approaching me, and his warning about fraying my thread. I rub my arms, feeling chilled despite myself, and follow after the Spidae. I can't not look now. I have to see for myself.
He moves through the tangle of threads as if they're water, and they part before him. He lifts a hand and a few threads surge forward, others curling back as if repelled. He holds his hand out, palm up, and as he does, I can see two threads. They pass over his palm, stretching out from the web itself and pulled taut. One is a vivid green, thick and strong and beautiful. The other is…obviously mine.
It's colorless and faint, stretched thin even as it is attached to Kassam's thread. There's something about it that looks incredibly fragile, as if it'll break if I so much as breathe on it. "Oh," I say, because what else can I say? "It…doesn't look good."
His mouth twists, as if he's just dying to mock my lame-ass answer. "Would you like to see a healthy pairing?" At my nod, he lifts another hand, reaching through the mass of strands and pulls downward. Two other strands emerge, one a healthy, pale blue and the duller, smaller thread tugging tightly on it. They run parallel to one another, whereas mine looks more like I T-boned Kassam's thread at an intersection and am now clinging to him. Which…really might not be far from the truth. "This is Lord Gental and his anchor, a young mother from Glistentide. Note how healthy and strong her strand is as she anchors him."
My lips feel like sandpaper, but I lick them anyhow. "So why are you showing me this? I think we both knew it was bad."
The Spidae—Neska—regards me. "Because you know what Kassam is asking for. I am showing you why it is not possible. He is going to insist that you stay at his side. He is going to demand it. And I am showing you why it will not happen. I am not trying to be cruel. I am trying to help you understand."
There's a knot in my throat the size of a boulder. "But you're Fate. If anyone can do it, it's you."
A bitter smile curves his mouth as he gazes down at me. "I am Fate. I am not all-powerful. I can only work with the confines of my duty. What you ask for is impossible." Neska gestures at my thread again, so frail against Kassam's strong one. "Right now, you are tied to the mortal realm of Aos, pulled taut from your world. For me to do as Kassam would like, I must pull you free and remove you from your world entirely. Then I would be able to transfer you to this web and attach you at his side." His hand moves alongside the threads without touching them. "But if I touch your thread, it will snap. You will return to your world, only to die there because your thread has been severed. It does not matter how badly Kassam might wish for you to join him in this world. There is simply no way around it. Your thread is not strong enough."
"Oh," I say softly. I feel like I'm being shattered inside, but I should have known, shouldn't I? The moment Death reached out to me and I turned him down, I knew this was going to go badly, and I did it anyhow. "So if I want to be with Kassam, I have to stay…like this." I gesture at my not-quite-alive body, which even now feels floaty and strange.
"As an unnatural thing, yes. You wait for your thread to snap on its own."
I flinch at his words. An unnatural thing. But that's how I feel. Like my soul is trapped inside a body that no longer responds the way it used to, like it doesn't quite fit anymore. Like a puzzle piece that's been jammed into the wrong spot. And yet…it's not so bad, is it? Being a puzzle piece beats dying, and I don't want to do that for sure. I'm not ready to give up on living…or on Kassam. "I can stay like this, then. How long before my thread snaps?"
Those painfully hard eyes narrow at me. "It could be ten years."
Ten years with Kassam? Ten more years of loving under the trees, of touching each other, enjoying each other's bodies, laughing together…suddenly I want that very, very badly. Ten years is a little selfish, of course. It's ten years that Kassam can't return to his realm, ten more years of the conmac trapped in wolf form. Ten years of floating and dry lips and not eating, but I want those ten years. I can squeeze a lot of living into them, I know I can.