The Patchwork Horror lingered in the clearing like a broken marionette, stitched seams glowing with that strange pulse. Button crouched low, muscles of thread and stuffing tightening beneath his patched hide. Nyra's pulse drummed in her ears, each beat echoing the creature's unnatural rhythm. The forest itself seemed to recoil, the trees creaking and shivering as though they wanted no part in the battle to come.
Tovan shifted his grip on his sword, wincing as his still-healing side protested. His jaw clenched, sweat running down his temple despite the chill in the air. "That thing… it shouldn't even be moving. The seams alone should've given way."
Nyra's gaze sharpened. "It isn't alive in the way you think. Someone forced it together with corrupted thread. That's why my bindings failed—it's warded."
She reached into her satchel, pulling free a second spool. This one shimmered faintly blue, humming faintly in her palm, and the air around it shifted as though the forest leaned in closer to listen. "Anchor thread. It doesn't just stitch—it roots. If I can fix it to something solid, I might be able to pull the seams apart from there."
Tovan gave her a wary look, voice rough. "And if it doesn't work?"
Nyra tied the end of the spool around her wrist with a decisive tug. "Then we improvise. Same as always."
The Patchwork Horror lurched forward, its wolf-lizard legs carrying it in a grotesque gallop. Each step hit the ground with a wet, jarring thud that made the soil quake. Button met it head-on, slamming into its chest with enough force to rattle the trees. The impact sent both crashing sideways, Button rolling to pin it beneath him. The Horror twisted, antler catching Button's shoulder seam and tearing a long gash that spilled tufts of cotton like blood.
"Button!" Nyra cried, heart in her throat.
The bear didn't falter. His paw clamped down on the creature's snapping jaw, holding it at bay while his button eyes glowed brighter, urging her: Now.
Nyra threw the anchor thread outward, her needle flashing like lightning. It snagged a tree root, then darted to the Horror's glowing seam like a silver fish through water. The moment the threads connected, she felt the pull—two magics grinding against each other like jagged glass. Her hands shook as the energy bit into her fingers, heat and cold at once.
The Horror shrieked, a warped cry that rattled the ground and sent crows exploding from the canopy. Its seams bulged, glowing brighter, fighting back against her pull. The backlash stung through her fingers, leaving them numb. Her teeth clenched, jaw aching from the strain.
"Hold it steady!" she shouted.
Button's form rippled with effort, stuffing packed tight as his massive body bore down. Sprout shot forward from her satchel, vines whipping out to wrap its hind legs. Puff spat fireballs at its snapping antlered head, forcing it to flinch and screech. Even Biscuit dived in, flapping furiously to claw at its stitches, his little plush growls full of outrage.
"Biscuit, careful!" Nyra warned. The tiny manticore plush gave her a quick squeak that sounded suspiciously like I know! before diving again. Puff puffed up indignantly and spit a fireball right past Tovan's boot, earning him a startled hop back.
"Gods—your toys are trying to kill me!" Tovan barked, though there was a sharp edge of laughter in it.
"They're not toys," Nyra shot back, needle hand trembling as she pulled. "And Puff, watch where you aim!"
Puff let out a tiny, unapologetic fwoom.
Tovan roared and charged from the side, blade glowing faintly with enchantment as he hacked at the seams holding the deer skull in place. "If these little fiends don't finish me, that thing will!"
Sprout answered by looping a vine around Tovan's wrist, steadying his swing like a partner in a dance. "Oh, don't fuss," Nyra said breathlessly. "He likes you."
"He tied me up this morning!" Tovan retorted, slicing hard. Each strike sent up sparks of magic, ringing in the air like chimes. The seams held stubbornly—until Nyra's anchor thread flared and one finally split. The skull clattered to the ground, lifeless, the sound echoing like a death knell.
"Yes!" she gasped, sweat dripping down her temple as she pulled harder. "Good work, everyone!"
Biscuit growled proudly, Puff let out a triumphant fwoosh, and Sprout waved his vine like a banner. Even Button gave the faintest rumble of approval, pressing harder on the creature's chest to keep it pinned.
The corrupted thread began to unravel. Slowly, painfully, the beast came apart seam by seam. The wolf's forelegs sagged away, twitching before collapsing into nothing more than a limp carcass. The scaled lizard haunches writhed, breaking free before flopping lifelessly. With each unravel, the magical hum weakened, the oppressive weight in the air lightening.
Finally, with one last scream that fractured into static, the Horror collapsed into a pile of mismatched, inert animal bodies—each one no more than a husk. The corrupted thread dissolved into smoke… except for a single piece that lingered, black and stiff, pulsing faintly like a dying ember refusing to go out.
Nyra knelt, trembling as she reached for it. "Easy now," she whispered to herself, though Puff hopped onto her shoulder and hissed at the thread like an angry cat. Biscuit pawed at the ground as if daring it to move again. Even Sprout curled a vine protectively around Nyra's arm.
The moment her fingers brushed it, a cold shiver stabbed down her spine. Voices hissed at the edge of her hearing, like whispers through torn fabric, too faint to understand but sharp enough to cut. Her breath caught, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to tilt.
She snatched her hand back, breath sharp. "This… this isn't normal corruption. Someone stitched this with intent."
Tovan sheathed his blade with a sharp motion. His eyes lingered on her glowing spool, then on the way she cradled the black thread with a mix of fear and reverence. "Nyra… your magic. It isn't just plushmaking, is it?"
Nyra forced a small smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "It's still sewing, Tovan. Just… on a different canvas." Her voice was steady, but her heart thrummed like a drum. She could still hear the faint whispers, and she hated how they seemed to know her name.
Button loomed protectively behind her, his torn seam already restitching itself with faint glowing lines—an ability he rarely displayed in front of others. The faint hiss of the thread weaving itself shut was like a secret exposed. Tovan caught the flicker of magic in Button's repair and frowned, suspicion deepening, but said nothing. Not yet.
Nyra tucked the scrap of black thread into a hidden pocket of her satchel, her hand lingering on it as though it might wriggle free. She could feel Button's gaze on her, steady and unblinking, as if reminding her: Don't let it touch you too long.
The silence afterward felt heavy. Even Puff stilled, the little flame in his core guttering low, and Sprout curled close to her side with a protective shiver. The forest seemed to breathe again, a sigh of relief after holding its lungs tight.
Nyra exhaled and forced cheer into her voice, though her hands still shook faintly. "Well… one Horror down. Dinner's on me. Biscuit, no stealing it this time."
Biscuit growled sheepishly. Puff squeaked indignantly, puffing a smoke ring, while Sprout tugged on Nyra's sleeve as if to promise he'd keep watch. Tovan looked at them all, shaking his head. "You travel with a madhouse," he muttered.
Nyra grinned, patting Button's stitched arm. "Maybe. But it's my madhouse."
Button bent to scoop Nyra gently into his arms, setting her back on her feet with a silent look that said plainly: Rest.
Tovan, however, wasn't smiling. His hand brushed his healed side where her thread had worked its magic the night before. He remembered the hum, the shimmer, the warmth—and now this. He eyed Nyra quietly, the flicker of doubt threading through his curiosity. She looked so small against Button's broad shadow, but the memory of her pulling apart a monster stitched from nightmares lingered vividly in his mind.