I didn't sleep that night.
After Riven showed me the fateglass blade and warned me about burning the world down, he offered me a cot in a quiet corner of the Weaving Cell. I pretended to rest. I watched the red thread hum in the dark instead.
It was alive.
Not just glowing. Breathing.
And it wasn't just wrapped around my wrist anymore. It now coiled faintly around my chest—my heart.
That morning, he gave me tea that smelled like thunder and tasted like dreams. Then training began.
"I'm not going to teach you to fight," Riven said, stepping into the center of the room.
"I was hoping you wouldn't."
"But I am going to teach you how to feel it."
"The thread?"
He nodded. "And the power it opens. Desire isn't just about want. It's creation. It's ruin. It's will."
I frowned. "That sounds vague and dangerous."
"It is both." He lifted his hand. Silver and gold threads rose from the floor like vines. They twisted around his arms, forming shapes—wings, blades, a burning rose.
"I thought only Threadweavers could do that."
"They can. And now… so can you. Yours just hasn't obeyed yet." He looked at me, serious now. "Because you're scared of it."
I crossed my arms. "Of course I'm scared of it. It's rewriting my emotions and might destroy the world. That's a reasonable fear."
Riven almost smiled.
"I don't need you to love the thread," he said. "Just stop running from it."
Then he turned and raised his hand. A wall of energy shimmered to life around the room.
"No one can reach us in here. You're safe. You can try."
I took a shaky breath and closed my eyes.
Feel it, I told myself.
The thread.
The heat.
The want.
And I did. Not just the red line around my heart—but the way it stretched through time, through memory, as if it had always been there, waiting. My skin sparked. My chest burned. Something inside me unlocked.
When I opened my eyes, my hands were glowing red.
Not soft or warm—burning. Licks of flame curled from my palms, twisting upward like the edges of a burning letter. I gasped and stumbled back.
Riven stepped in instantly and pressed his fingers to mine. The fire vanished.
"You channeled too deep, too fast." His voice was calm, but his eyes were wide. "You're stronger than I thought."
I looked at my hands. No burns. No marks.
"I didn't feel pain," I whispered.
"That's how Desire magic works." He met my gaze. "It doesn't hurt until it's too late."
We stared at each other for a long second. And the thread between us began to pulse faster.
"You felt that too," I said.
"I always feel it when you do."
The air between us crackled.
I stepped back first.
"We should keep training," I said quickly.
"Yes," Riven agreed. But his voice had changed. "Before the others find out how powerful you're becoming."