Chapter Thirty-Nine #2
“Please, Ezzy.” My voice breaks before I can reel it back. “You’re the only proper girl friend I’ve ever had.”
There’s a long pause. Then she finally looks at me, and god, I almost wish she hadn’t. Because it’s not anger in her eyes. It’s hurt.
“I don’t know, Lyra...”
I knew it. I knew it. But still, it punches harder than I expect.
“Okay, look.” I cut in fast before she can finish.
“What about this, we start over. I’ll work on it.
Earning your trust back, learning where you’re coming from.
Not just expecting you to fit into my world, but actually, actually, trying to understand yours.
” I pause. “And, and we just take it from there.”
Ezzy watches me. Long enough that my palms start to sweat again. Then, finally her shoulders drop, just slightly. “I think I can do that… and I mean you did save my life by interfering. Thank you.”
I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. My shoulders fall, jaw unclenches. Even my chest loosens, like it’s finally allowed to rise without scraping against bone. It’s not forgiveness. Not yet. But it’s something.
A small, startled smile tugs at the edge of my mouth. Not big. Ezzy catches it, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, she smiles back. Soft, a little sad, but real.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you too, ” she replies, then adds, “Oh, by the way… during the fight with Beth? I saw you call on fire.” A wider grin flashes across her face. “It was pretty badass. Didn’t know you could do that.”
My brows furrow. “I don’t think I did. Must’ve been Beth’s Threads. I don’t remember. Everything’s such a blur.”
“Oh, right, well, I was so stressed, I probably imagined it.”
A beat of silence.
“Ezzy…” I hesitate. “About Brian and the books, I’m sorry too.”
She shakes her head. “It’s okay. I mean, it's good for him to make new friends and talk about something other than his research. Thread resonance, transfer, whatever it is.”
Something cold stirs in my gut. Thread transfer.
Brian. Why the hell didn’t I think of him sooner?
I couldn’t risk going to a professor, not with whatever this thing is between Talen and me. I don’t know what it means yet, and I sure as shit don’t want anyone finding out before I do.
But Brian? Thread-obsessed, book-hoarding, self-declared expert on Thread theory Brian? He’ll know something. He has to.
“Ezzy, I have to go,” I say suddenly, standing too fast. The world spins, but I steady. “I’ll explain later. I promise.”
“Lyra—”
“I mean it,” I say, already halfway to the door. “Meet me back in our dorm, and we can talk more. Get ready for the ball together?”
She studies me for a second, still wary, but she smiles. “Yeah,” she says softly. “Yeah, okay, that sounds nice.”
I nod once, throw the duck in my pack, and head for the corridor.
My lungs are on fire by the time I push through the doors of the food hall. I checked every goddamn tunnel first, twice. Last one, of course, a half-asleep guard mutters something about “Brian” and “lunch.”
I scan the room and find him sitting at a far table, alone, hunched over a stack of papers like it personally offended him.
Okay. Think. Don’t raise suspicion. Channel your inner Ezzy. Flirty, but sweet. I need to get answers from him without seeming suspicious, and definitely not desperate. I tame my red curls back and stroll over.
“Hey, Brian,” I say, slow and casual like I didn’t just sprint across half the Citadel looking for him.
He jumps hard enough that his pencil slips across the page, leaving a thick black scar over whatever complicated chart he was working on.
“Oh—uh—Lyra. Hi.” He says, sounding mildly surprised. Cute.
I nod toward the seat beside him. “Mind if I sit? I wanted to ask you about your research.”
Brian blinks, visibly processing that someone, me, is willingly engaging in a conversation. Then, like he remembers how chairs work, he shifts his papers and mumbles, “Yeah—yeah, of course. Please.”
I slide in beside him. Close enough to make it feel intentional. Not enough to scare him off.
“So…” He says, clearing his throat. “What do you want to know?”
Where to even start.
“Well…” I twist a strand of hair around my finger, careful not to lay it on too thick.
“I’ve actually been thinking about going into research myself.
Maybe after graduation.” I tilt my head, let the curiosity come through.
“And I remembered you mentioned something once, something about Thread resonance? Or transfer? It sounded… fascinating.”
His whole face brightens, and for a second, he forgets to be awkward.
“Oh—yes! It is a fascinating topic. I’ve been piecing together some early theories in my spare time, mostly from my father’s old collection.
Not many books left on it in the main library, probably got cleared out during the last wave of Citadel inspections. ”
Figures.
“Well, I’m curious,” I say, leaning in just enough to lower my voice. “Is it possible that Threads can... transfer? Like between people?”
Brian hesitates. His mouth parts like he's about to answer, then stalls, unsure. I shift closer, slow and easy, leaning on one elbow, knee brushing his, like I’ve got all the time in the world.
He flushes. “Oh. Um. Sure. Yes. I mean—it’s possible. Sort of. It’s rare, though.” He lowers his voice, even though no one’s listening. “I found a few mentions, scattered case studies, but it could only happen under very specific conditions.”
“Like what?”
He fiddles with the corner of a page. “Well, Threads can’t just shift on their own. There has to be a shared Threadfield.”
“Threadfield?” I echo, brows lifted.
“Yes,” he nods quickly, “everyone has one. A kind of aura our Threads emit. It’s invisible. In crowded places, dozens of Threadfields overlap, but most blur into background noise.”
“But sometimes... they don’t?”
His gaze flicks to me, then to the side. “Well. If two powerful individuals come together—and their fields happen to align—then certain anomalies could occur.” He glances up at me. “All sorts of strange things.” He stops himself, presses his lips together.
I twirl the curl again and let my voice drop just a little. “Brian, that’s incredible. You really are ahead of everyone on this stuff. I can’t believe more people aren’t working with you already.”
He looks away. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“So what kind of resonance are we talking about?” I ask, light but precise. “You said energy might move, like... Threads transferring? Or something else?”
He hesitates again, scratching his neck.
“I mean, it’s all theory, but—yes. If two people share a Threadfield, then Threads could shift, from one person.
.. to another. It would be like magnets.
If both are stable, balanced, nothing really happens.
But if one has unanchored Threads—or unstable resonance—then yes, it’s possible that some Threads could shift towards the more dominant one.
” He pauses. “But it would probably require close proximity under heightened emotional stress”
“Like... intimacy?” I offer.
His cheeks go crimson. “I—I guess that would count. Yes.”
“And would that be dangerous?”
He looks at me, a little more serious now. “If left unchecked? Well I guess, if one person drew all the Threads from another... it could be fatal. Yes, for both parties.” A pause, eyes narrow, then “Why are you asking me this, Lyra?”
My stomach knots. Do I keep pushing? Keep asking? But what if I'm dragging Brian into something he can’t walk back from?
He doesn’t get it, not really. He thinks what he’s studying is all theory, or historic cases, harmless ideas pulled from old books his dad kept tucked away. But this stuff... it’s real.
Too real.
Does the Citadel know what he’s digging into? And if they don’t, what happens when they find out? There must be a reason this kind of knowledge isn’t shelved in their libraries.
But I need answers, and anyway he’s already knee-deep in this mess. He’s the one unearthing it. I’m just… helping.
So I lean in a little more, tilt my head like I’m curious. “I mean, if I understood the basics,” I say, voice light, careful, “maybe I could help with your research someday.”
Then I let out a soft breath. Like I’m impressed. And I am, just not in the way he wants me to be. But that does it, his whole face lights up like I just offered to marry him. Poor guy.
“You said lots of strange things can happen.” I continue, smiling. “Beyond just transferring. Like what, emotions? Could someone... feel what the other person feels?”
“Well, that’s not part of the original cases, but—” Brian shifts in his seat, a little more at ease now, “—when Threadfields align, it’s not just raw magic that could shift, it could also be like resonance.
Like a bell struck in one tower, and a matching bell across the city rings in answer.
If someone’s Threads are projecting something powerful—grief, desire, fear—and they are unstable, it could carry over. ”
“What if both people could control it?” I ask. “If they were stable, could they stop stuff from happening?”
He thinks, then nods slowly. “In theory, I don't see why not. If both are anchored and trained in Thread control, they could resist automatic transfer. They might still choose to share Threads or emotion, but it shouldn’t bleed across accidentally.”
Brian glances over his shoulder. “You sure this is just curiosity? Because it sounds like you’re asking about real cases…”
Shit.
My smile slips for half a second, too fast to catch, I hope. “No, just curious. I think it’s a shame no one teaches this stuff. So many gaps, so many questions.” I tilt my head, let the flattery land. “Luckily, you’re smart enough to answer them.”
He blushes again and looks down at his notes like they might save him.
“Anyway,” I say, sliding to my feet, “thank you, Brian. You’ve given me a lot to think about.” I sling my satchel over my shoulder, flash him a sweet, grateful smile. “See you at the Ball?”