The park was nearly empty. Night settled heavy across the cracked pathways and broken benches, the old fountain dark and still. Elias stood alone beneath the skeletal branches, stone in one hand, breath catching in the cold.
He felt it again—that low pulse beneath the world, like a distant drum only he could hear. Since the night before, it hadn't stopped.
Jamie approached quietly from the other side of the square, sketchbook tucked under one arm. "Thought you'd be here."
Elias gave a tired smile. "Didn't feel like sleeping."
Jamie sat beside him on the fountain's rim. "Me neither. Kept seeing that feather in my dreams. It kept falling but never landed."
"That's the Veil," Elias said softly. "Or maybe something just outside it."
Jamie pulled out his sketchbook and flipped it open. The latest drawing was rough—three silhouettes standing beneath a spiraling sky. "I think I drew her."
Elias glanced over. "Mira?"
Jamie nodded. "Silver eyes. Always in the corner of the frame. She's been following us for a while."
"She saved me once," Elias admitted. "A long time ago. I didn't remember until last night."
Jamie raised an eyebrow. "And now she's just… gone again?"
"Not gone," Elias said. "Watching."
Jamie looked toward the rooftop across the park. "Then maybe it's time she stopped."
As if on cue, the wind shifted.
A soft thud echoed through the clearing, and a cloaked figure dropped from the roof, landing a few feet from the boys. Her coat settled around her like a second shadow.
Mira straightened, her silver-black hair falling across one eye.
Jamie didn't flinch. "Took you long enough."
Mira studied them both. Her expression was unreadable. "You're both still alive. That's a good start."
Elias stepped forward slowly. "So you're real."
Mira tilted her head. "You never doubted that."
"I did," Elias said. "But I still kept the note."
He reached into his jacket and unfolded the creased paper—the one she had left him years ago when he was still just a boy shaking under a bridge, eyes full of spirals he didn't understand.
> "If the spirals repeat, don't follow them in your sleep. Not yet."
Mira's gaze softened. "I broke protocol that night."
"Why?"
"Because the Veil noticed you before the Council did. And because you reminded me of someone I failed to save."
Jamie glanced between them. "I feel like I walked into the middle of a very sad movie."
Elias gave a hollow laugh. "Feels like we're all just catching up to something that already started without us."
Mira stepped closer, her voice low. "That's not far from the truth. You've both been circling the Veil for years. Last night changed the pace. You're not drifting anymore—you're drawing things to you."
"Like what?" Jamie asked.
"Like Nara," she said. "The Council's blade. He doesn't speak. He doesn't warn. If he's watching you, it means you've been marked. And if you've been marked—your time is limited."
Jamie swallowed. "Cool. Great. Love that for us."
Mira turned to Elias. "You've already touched the thread. You've started cultivating—without guidance, without grounding. That's dangerous."
"I know," Elias said. "That's why I want help."
Jamie raised a hand. "We want help."
Mira blinked at him. "You're not exactly—"
"I've seen things since I was a kid," Jamie said firmly. "My drawings come before the dreams. I see symbols I can't name and places I've never been. If that doesn't count, I don't care. I'm still in."
Mira studied him. Then, unexpectedly, she nodded. "You're not just a witness. You're a bridge."
Jamie smirked. "I've been called worse."
Elias glanced at Mira. "Can you train us?"
"No," she said. "But I can bring you to someone who might. She doesn't take students. She doesn't like attention. But she owes me a favor."
Elias narrowed his eyes. "Who?"
"Kirin Amari," Mira said. "She used to serve the Council. Now she brews tea underground and pretends she's forgotten the Veil."
Jamie blinked. "Sounds stable."
"She's the best option you've got," Mira said. "She can teach you how to listen without losing yourself."
Elias felt the weight of the stone in his pocket—the one Kirin hadn't given him yet, but soon would.
He looked to Jamie, who gave a subtle nod. Then he looked back at Mira.
"When?"
"Tomorrow night," she said. "I'll come for you both."
The wind stirred again. The fountain groaned.
Above them, the stars shimmered faintly—distant, watching, waiting.
For now, the three stood together beneath their silent glow.
For the first time, the threads had met.