Oro
When his finger caught one of the threads, causing it to unravel. He made to push it back in—
And heard voices. His head snapped up, expecting to see his friends walking inside. But these weren’t his friends.
The people striding confidently into his throne room were strangers.
What was this?
They murmured, but Oro couldn’t make out their words. It sounded like everything was underwater. Then the chatter abruptly stopped, and everyone turned toward the throne room’s entrance.
A towering man with golden hair walked through the doors. He strode with purpose, right to the throne. Oro had seen enough portraits in the hall to know exactly who this was.
Horus Rey. His ancestor. One of the founders of the island.
Oro hurried to unravel more of the threads, faster this time, to test a theory, and the people around him disappeared in long columns of gold smoke.
As he unwound, years flitted across his vision, the room changing, people traveling in and out.
His mind burned, his eyes straining to take it all in.
His body felt pulled forward, as if he was being dragged through a thick current.
Until he paused his thumb, and everything around him settled once more.
Oro’s heart wrenched as he recognized the woman in front of him. His mother was standing just a few feet away, younger than he had ever seen her. She was holding a glimmering sword and speaking to a man—his father. Oro couldn’t hear his response, but it looked like he was pleading with her.
His mother turned on her heel, and his father followed her like a lost creature, his expression pure adoration.
Oro blinked in surprise. He knew that they’d had a great love story when they met.
But he had only seen their relationship many years later, when all of that warmth had been extinguished.
Had his father’s insistence on finding the Threads of Time pushed her away?
Had it turned him into the cold and unimpressed father Oro had known as a child?
He—
“What are you doing?”
A voice clear as day startled him into dropping the threads on the floor. In an instant—his parents were gone.
Enya was in front of him, frowning down at the pile of gold string. “What is that?”
Warily, he bent to pick it up and winced. His head was throbbing. His body felt heavy and worn out, like he had been swimming for hours. Still, the threads gleamed on the floor, as if in invitation.
“It . . . controls time. Supposedly,” he said. His voice sounded ragged.
Enya lifted a brow. “Supposedly?”
His fingers curled around the threads, and they were warmer than before. “I think I just saw . . . thousands of years. Distilled into seconds.”
Was the extent of these threads’ ability to simply see the past?
“Sounds exhausting,” Enya said. She frowned, looking him over. “You don’t look so good.”
“Thank you,” Oro said, flatly.
Her lips twitched. “I mean, you look worse than usual.”
“Again, thank you.”
“I’m serious. You look . . .”
“How am I supposed to look?” he said, surprising himself with his tone.
He hadn’t meant to yell. He worked to soften his voice slightly.
“The woman I love left months ago . . . then came back . . . and I . . . I hoped that maybe . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence.
He knew he didn’t need to. “And now . . . she’s in another world, and I can’t feel her anymore, Enya.
Neither of us can.” His voice broke on the words.
Suddenly, it was like he couldn’t breathe.
“Hey,” Enya said, grabbing him by the arms. Steadying him, like she always had. “You both are doing everything you can to get her back. But she needs you to be strong.” She sighed. “You’re her only hope.”
He knew that. And it was exactly why he was so afraid. What if he wasn’t strong enough to help her? What if he couldn’t be what she needed?
As if sensing his doubt, Enya shook him by the shoulders and said, “You are king of Lightlark. Did you forget? You’re the most powerful person in this world. More powerful, even, than him.”
Oro didn’t know if that was true. But he did agree, that having both of them searching for her was the most he could hope for.
“Now,” Enya said. She glanced down at the threads. “Did you see anything good?”
Oro gritted his teeth, his head still pulsing in pain. “My parents . . . they used to like each other.”
Enya had known his parents almost as well as he had. She made a face. “Really?”
He nodded. “I saw my father smile.”
She gasped. “And the world kept turning?”
A laugh slipped out of him. It felt strange. How long had it been since he had experienced anything resembling joy?
He sighed. “This,” he said, holding the threads up, “is supposed to be a crucial part in all of this. It’s supposed to help her save the universe. But I don’t know how.”
Enya frowned. “Did you see anyone else? Other than your parents.”
“Horus.”
She considered this, working her lip in concentration. “Maybe that’s the key, then. Think about it. Lark and Cronan are alive and involved in this. The only founder of Lightlark missing is him.”
“He’s dead,” Oro said. He had seen his ancestor’s corpse himself, with Isla.
“I know,” she said. “But maybe he can still help you.”
Enya was right. Horus was from the otherworld. Of course, he, out of anyone, would have information they need. Oro just needed to figure out how to use these threads to find specific moments that might be useful.
“Thank you,” he said, wiping a hand down his face in exhaustion. Since the moment Isla left, he and Grim had worked tirelessly to get her back, and now, he was starting to feel it.
“Anytime,” Enya replied. She looked down at the threads. “Be careful with that,” she warned.
“I will be,” Oro said. He made his way back to his throne as she left the room. When he sat down, he realized just how tired he was. He should sleep. He should eat something.
But instead, he began unraveling the threads once more.