It's colorless and faint, stretched thin even as it is attached to Kassam's thread. There's something about it that looks incredibly fragile, as if it'll break if I so much as breathe on it. "Oh," I say, because what else can I say? "It…doesn't look good."
His mouth twists, as if he's just dying to mock my lame-ass answer. "Would you like to see a healthy pairing?" At my nod, he lifts another hand, reaching through the mass of strands and pulls downward. Two other strands emerge, one a healthy, pale blue and the duller, smaller thread tugging tightly on it. They run parallel to one another, whereas mine looks more like I T-boned Kassam's thread at an intersection and am now clinging to him. Which…really might not be far from the truth. "This is Lord Gental and his anchor, a young mother from Glistentide. Note how healthy and strong her strand is as she anchors him."
My lips feel like sandpaper, but I lick them anyhow. "So why are you showing me this? I think we both knew it was bad."
The Spidae—Neska—regards me. "Because you know what Kassam is asking for. I am showing you why it is not possible. He is going to insist that you stay at his side. He is going to demand it. And I am showing you why it will not happen. I am not trying to be cruel. I am trying to help you understand."
There's a knot in my throat the size of a boulder. "But you're Fate. If anyone can do it, it's you."
A bitter smile curves his mouth as he gazes down at me. "I am Fate. I am not all-powerful. I can only work with the confines of my duty. What you ask for is impossible." Neska gestures at my thread again, so frail against Kassam's strong one. "Right now, you are tied to the mortal realm of Aos, pulled taut from your world. For me to do as Kassam would like, I must pull you free and remove you from your world entirely. Then I would be able to transfer you to this web and attach you at his side." His hand moves alongside the threads without touching them. "But if I touch your thread, it will snap. You will return to your world, only to die there because your thread has been severed. It does not matter how badly Kassam might wish for you to join him in this world. There is simply no way around it. Your thread is not strong enough."
"Oh," I say softly. I feel like I'm being shattered inside, but I should have known, shouldn't I? The moment Death reached out to me and I turned him down, I knew this was going to go badly, and I did it anyhow. "So if I want to be with Kassam, I have to stay…like this." I gesture at my not-quite-alive body, which even now feels floaty and strange.
"As an unnatural thing, yes. You wait for your thread to snap on its own."
I flinch at his words. An unnatural thing. But that's how I feel. Like my soul is trapped inside a body that no longer responds the way it used to, like it doesn't quite fit anymore. Like a puzzle piece that's been jammed into the wrong spot. And yet…it's not so bad, is it? Being a puzzle piece beats dying, and I don't want to do that for sure. I'm not ready to give up on living…or on Kassam. "I can stay like this, then. How long before my thread snaps?"
Those painfully hard eyes narrow at me. "It could be ten years."
Ten years with Kassam? Ten more years of loving under the trees, of touching each other, enjoying each other's bodies, laughing together…suddenly I want that very, very badly. Ten years is a little selfish, of course. It's ten years that Kassam can't return to his realm, ten more years of the conmac trapped in wolf form. Ten years of floating and dry lips and not eating, but I want those ten years. I can squeeze a lot of living into them, I know I can.
"Or ten thousand," the Spidae continues.
"Ten…thousand?" I choke out, horrified. "And my body?"
"It will wither. The life force that keeps it vibrant will fade, and the elements will tear away at a body that cannot repair itself." He shrugs. "But you will live on, as you are, until your thread snaps on its own, and Kassam will be trapped in the mortal realm with you until then."
The thought tastes sour in my mouth. I've seen how Kassam hungrily eyes the forests. The guilt in his gaze when he looks at the conmac, who we left on the far side of the mountains. I know he wants to go home desperately. He's been away from his realm for a thousand years, and every day more must eat away at him.