The hum woke Arielle before the dawn light touched the city.
It wasn't the faint, steady vibration she'd grown used to. It was louder, sharper, every beat like a drum echoing through her bones. When she opened her eyes, the air itself shimmered faintly around her — threads stirring, drawn to her pulse as if she were a beacon.
Selene was already awake, standing by the window. Their silhouette was motionless against the pale violet sky, but Arielle didn't miss the faint tremor in their hand as they rested it against the glass. The tether glow bleeding across the horizon painted the whole world in shifting, unnatural light.
"They're coming," Selene said quietly.
Arielle pushed herself upright. "The Conclave?"
"They sent the Spire Wards out an hour ago. The whole district's being sealed." Selene's silver eyes flicked to her, sharp even through their exhaustion. "They're not waiting for you to surrender anymore."
The hum surged, answering the tension in the air, and for a moment Arielle felt the threads around her tighten — not attacking, just listening. Waiting.
"They're scared," she said, almost to herself.
"They think you're a threat," Selene corrected. "And Draven's been circling like a carrion hawk since the storm. If the Conclave doesn't take you, he will."
Arielle's jaw clenched. The memory of Draven's steady gaze in the cathedral flickered at the edge of her thoughts — the calm certainty in his voice as he offered survival. Power. Control.
"What's their plan if they get me?" she asked.
Selene didn't answer right away. Then, flatly: "It doesn't matter. They won't get you."
Arielle studied them. Their silver glow was dimmer than usual, their threadmarks faintly smudged, as if they hadn't had time — or strength — to restitch themselves. She wondered how much longer they could keep fighting both the Conclave and Draven before their body gave out entirely.
Before she could speak, the first pulse hit.
The air outside warped, a shockwave of pure weave energy rolling down the street. Wards shattered like glass, threads snapping in a cascade of sparks. Arielle staggered, gripping the edge of the cot as the hum inside her roared in response.
"They're not even trying to contain me," she said, her voice tight. "They're flushing us out."
Selene's needle snapped into their hand, silver light lancing along its edge. "Then we move. Now."
The streets of Starlight City were chaos.
Spire Wardens in white-thread armor moved in coordinated patterns, their steps leaving glowing sigils in the cracked pavement. Each one carried a loopblade, a weapon designed to sever both flesh and thread. Overhead, binding nets hummed like halos, their latticework of energy ready to drop on anything that resonated too strongly.
Arielle felt every thread they cast, each weave vibrating against her own like a discordant chord. The hum inside her pulsed harder, threatening to burst outward and draw every eye to her.
Selene kept them moving through the shadows, their stitches weaving thin cloaks of obscurity that masked their resonance — but each stitch cost them. Arielle could see the faint fray at their fingertips, threads unraveling faster than they could repair.
When they finally ducked into an abandoned station beneath the tramway, Selene leaned heavily against the wall, their breathing ragged.
"You're burning yourself out," Arielle said.
Selene's lips twitched into a faint, humorless smile. "Not the first time. Won't be the last."
Before Arielle could respond, a slow clap echoed through the station. The sound was soft, deliberate, and carried far too easily through the empty space.
Draven emerged from the far shadows, his coat trailing along the cracked tile like a shadow-thread unraveling. The violet tetherlight above caught in his eyes, making them glow faintly.
"Impressive," he said mildly. "You've evaded the Spire's finest for hours. But you know they won't stop until you're in chains. Or a grave."
Selene's needle lifted instantly, silver thread sparking. "Not one more step."
Draven ignored them, his attention fixed on Arielle. "You feel it, don't you? The hum clawing at your ribs. The threads answering you, even when you don't call. The Conclave will tear your core out to stop it. But you can choose what you become instead of letting them decide."
Arielle's fists clenched. The hum pulsed again, sharp enough that the threads around her stirred, trembling like struck wires. For a fleeting second, she imagined letting them loose, watching the Spire nets burn and the Wardens scatter.
Selene's voice cut through, low and fierce. "You think turning her into one of your leashed Anchors is a choice? She'll lose herself."
Draven's faint smile didn't falter. "Or she'll stop burning alive for a Conclave that's already decided she's expendable. You can't hold her resonance together forever, Selene. It'll kill you both."
The hum swelled, rising like a tide inside Arielle's chest. She could feel the threads around them reacting, twitching toward her as though waiting for her command.
For a moment, the station felt like a scale tipped on a knife's edge. Selene, frayed but unyielding. Draven, calm and certain. The Conclave's Wardens tightening their net outside.
And Arielle, the fulcrum, her own heartbeat indistinguishable from the hum.
The ceiling above them shook as another Conclave pulse detonated nearby, rattling dust and shards of old threadglass from the beams. Selene grabbed Arielle's arm, eyes sharp. "We move. Now. Before they breach."
Draven tilted his head. "Run with her, and you'll both burn. Come with me, and you live."
The hum roared louder, so loud Arielle swore she felt the whole station vibrate with it.
And somewhere deep within, she felt something new stir — a faint pull, not toward Selene or Draven, but toward the tether itself. A third thread, humming low and insistent, as if the city's very weave was calling her name.