There are stitches that bind.
And there are stitches that betray.
Cassien had worn both.
Tonight, he would decide which one he'd become.
---
The Offer
The contact arrived via mirror.
A Silk Cipher — banned tech that used reflective surfaces to transmit encrypted messages.
Cassien watched the smooth surface fog, then form into the sharp-jawed face of Lady Mairen Volta — Minister of Imperial Propaganda and patron saint of curated deception.
"You lost," she said without a trace of concern. "And yet, we're more interested in you than her."
"I'm not for sale," he said.
"You were born in the palace," she reminded him. "You're not a revolutionary. You're a legacy."
The offer scrolled across the mirror's bottom edge.
Reinstate House Valor. Restore your inheritance. And deliver Sloane Lux.
He stared.
Then shut the mirror.
But the words kept flashing in his mind.
---
Sloane's New Vision
At Resistance HQ, Sloane stood over a holographic runway — a rotating wireframe of her newest collection.
But this wasn't couture.
This was weaponized fashion evolution.
"A line of adaptive attire," she said to the council. "Each outfit responds to the wearer's emotion and need — amplifies it. Protection. Speed. Strength."
One of the engineers frowned. "The emotional amplification is dangerous."
Sloane didn't blink. "So is silence."
She turned to Ari. "I need volunteers to field-test the prototypes."
Ari raised her hand without hesitation.
So did dozens of others.
They believed in her.
But belief wasn't armor.
Trust, like thread, could fray.
---
Cassien's Distance
That night, they met on the balcony overlooking the Crater Streets.
Sloane reached for his hand.
Cassien took hers, but his touch was cold.
"You didn't have to spare him," he said quietly. "My father."
"I did it for you," she whispered.
"I didn't ask you to."
"You didn't have to."
Silence.
Then, softly, "They're going to come after me harder now. I can feel it."
"You have all of us."
"Do I have you?"
Cassien looked away.
And the answer was a silence that sliced her deeper than a blade.
---
The Heist
At dawn, the vault alarms howled.
Sloane's prototype sketches — all of them — were gone.
The AI sensors had been looped. Internal access only.
No sign of forced entry.
Just one clue: a single strand of thread on the floor.
Golden.
Valorian-made.
---
Confrontation
Sloane found Cassien in the armory.
He didn't look surprised.
"You think I betrayed you," he said.
"I don't think. I know."
She threw the golden thread at his chest.
He caught it.
His expression didn't change.
"That's not proof."
"It's enough."
She stepped closer. "You looked me in the eyes last night and let me believe you still loved me."
"I do," he said.
"That's what makes it worse."
---
Flashback: The Seam of the Past
Three years earlier.
Cassien, fresh from the Academy, stitched his first independent design.
A coat for a girl he'd once watched sketch shoes on napkins behind a factory kitchen.
Her name had been Sloane Lux.
He never gave her that coat.
He kept it.
And burned it.
Because love, like fashion, was often built on things you'd never wear again.
---
Decision
Back in the present, Cassien placed something on Sloane's worktable.
A memory-stone.
Encrypted. Imperial-make.
Inside, the blueprints for Threadbreaker Armor — the Empire's newest fashion weapon.
"I stole this for you," he said.
"To level the field."
She looked at the stone, then at him.
"You gave them my designs."
He didn't deny it.
"But I'm giving you their next move."
"Why?"
"So you win."
"But you don't want me to win, do you?" Her voice cracked. "Not if it means I win without you."
Cassien's silence was damning.
Sloane turned away.
"I'll win. With or without you."
And this time, she didn't look back.
---
The Seam Cracks
Cassien left that night.
No goodbye.
No note.
Just his side of the wardrobe emptied.
And the coat he once burned?
Folded neatly on her bed.
Somehow… re-stitched.