They made love in their new bed. Kleo led, not wanting Jack to over-exert himself. She wanted to head out tomorrow. They had already been here for almost two weeks, and with Jack nearly dying from mana sickness, it had been the longest two weeks of her life.
As they lay in the wonder of their post-coitus haze, Kleo’s voice came soft and low, like a ripple across still water. “Jack, what do you remember about what happened that night?”
She squeezed his hands gently when she felt him tense, offering silent reassurance.
After a long pause, Jack spoke, his voice distant. Searching.
“I remember… something dark. Foul. Hideous. I wasn’t afraid—I wanted to destroy it. An energy built inside me, surging beyond my limit, until—” he hesitated, struggling for words. “Until it broke me. A bright flash burned everything away… then, just as suddenly, nothing. A void.”
Jack’s breath came uneven, his mind drifting further. “I wasn’t me anymore. I was… scattered. Broken. My soul shattered like shards of glass thrown into a storm. I wasn’t in a place—I was drifting, scattered, dissolving into nothing.”
Kleo steadied her breath, slowing to match his. “Did you feel pain?”
Jack frowned, his expression flickering between confusion and awe.
“No. It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t anything. I was unmade. There was no ‘Jack’—only broken fragments. But I knew I had to put myself back together. I started… reaching. But I wasn’t reaching with my hands. I was pulling pieces of myself from nowhere, gathering something invisible, something I felt but couldn’t see.”
His words faltered, frustration creeping into his tone. “It doesn’t make sense, does it?”
“It doesn’t have to,” Kleo reassured him. “Keep going.”
Jack exhaled. “At first, I was alone. But then, something changed. Something shifted. I was… reforming? I don’t know how to explain it. It was like waking up, but not all at once. I was still scattered, still incomplete, but something—someone—was there.”
Kleo’s brow furrowed. “Someone?”
“She held me together. She knew me, even when I didn’t know myself. She knew my name—she called me Jack. And the strange thing was… I didn’t even remember my name until she spoke it.”
Kleo’s pulse quickened at the mention of another woman. She stilled her emotions, hoping Jack hadn’t noticed. But he had because now he was squeezing her hand, reassuring her.
“What else do you remember?”
Jack frowned, frustration deepening. “It’s like a dream slipping away the moment you wake up. I know it happened—I can feel it happened—but the details are like mist in the air.”
He let out a slow breath, searching for the right words. “It wasn’t linear. It''s not a story with a beginning and end. It was… everything, all at once. Moments overlapping. Indivisible. Simultaneous.”
Kleo’s grip on his hands tightened. “And this… person? The one who told you your name?”
Jack’s brow furrowed in thought. “She wasn’t a person—not exactly. More like… a presence. Compassionate. Endless. She surrounded me, filled me. It felt like she was… waiting for me. Helping me gather the pieces of myself I couldn’t reach.”
He hesitated before adding, “I thought she was you.”
Kleo’s breath caught. “You thought it was me?”
Jack nodded. “I called her ‘Kleo’ once, and she laughed. Her laugh—it wasn’t like any sound I’ve ever heard. It was music. It went on forever. And then she said…”
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He trailed off, straining to recall. “She said, ‘I’m not Kleo, but that’s an easy mistake to make. Kleo is the thread between us—we are both trying to find our way back to her.’”
A shiver ran down Kleo’s spine. “What do you think she meant?”
Jack exhaled, shaking his head. “At the time, I understood. It felt so obvious. But now… it’s just words.” He let out a tired laugh. “I sound insane, don’t I?”
“No,” Kleo whispered, though her mind was a storm of thoughts. This wasn’t the simple recollection of events she had anticipated. This was something more. She could feel it—something lingering beyond Jack’s words, beyond his understanding. A force that had touched him guided him back. But what did it mean?
“Remember when you said my magic felt different?”
“Yes,” Kleo said, her voice tinged with apprehension. “It was unlike anything I’ve ever felt.”
“Well, I can explain the basics.”
Kleo’s confusion deepened, but she remained silent.
“My magic is threefold, intertwined into a single system of pathways. There’s the magic I was born with, though I was never aware I had it. Then there’s Demana magic, which, as best as I can tell, was an effect of our binding ritual, and the same for what you call ‘ancient magic.’”
Kleo sat up trembling. Jack immediately tried to soothe her.
“I know it’s a lot,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Please, let me explain.”
“It’s called ‘Kull magic,’ and it is ancient. It’s the original magic—fundamental to all other magics.”
“For me, the Kull magic is not something I can use directly—it works passively as a protective layer sheathed around my other magics. It’s always there, healing my core and strengthening my pathways. It seems to provide shielding from external forces. I don’t understand what that means.”
Kleo’s trembling grew more pronounced, and Jack paused, waiting for her to speak.
“I don’t understand,” she finally said, her voice small. “How can you know all this?”
Jack hesitated, then said, “I believe the Goddess gave me knowledge.”
Kleo froze. “Goddess?” she echoed. “You mean the presence?”
“Yes. I call her Goddess because it’s the only word that feels right. Whether she is a goddess, I can’t say. But she knewme, Kleo. She guided me and helped me put myself back together. And she shared this knowledge.”
“Jack,” she said, her voice tight with emotion.
“I’m not sure I understand any of this.”
“I know,” Jack said. “But it feels very real to me.”
Kleo took a deep breath. "Jack?" Kleo asked, her voice soft and hesitant.
"Yes, Kleo?"
"This Goddess—why do you think she said ''we are both trying to find our way back to her''?"
Jack thought hard. It was a good question, but the answer remained elusive.
"I''m not sure. All I remember is the feeling that it was true. You''ll be the first to know if something comes back to me."
She was tired. Frayed. “Let’s get some sleep,” she said. “We can discuss it more tomorrow if you’re up for it.”
Jack nodded, leaning into her and pressing a soft kiss against her lips. Kleo kissed him back, her lips lingering on his cheek and forehead before letting him go.
But sleep did not come quickly for Kleo. She stared at the ceiling, replaying Jack’s words—the presence, the strange words: Kleo is the thread between us.
She didn’t know what it meant. But she knew one thing for sure—Jack had not been alone during his near-death experience.
Maybe tomorrow would bring answers. Tonight, she needed to rest.
As her mind swam in a half-conscious haze, something stirred her, but she couldn’t quite grasp what. Beside her, Jack and Bitter slumbered peacefully. Jack’s soft snores punctuated the quiet room, his chest rising and falling in an unhurried rhythm. Bitter, sprawled on the floor, exhaled deeply, his paws twitching in a dream.
Her first thought was practical: Do I need to pee? She hated the idea of leaving the warm cocoon of blankets to step into the cool night air. She didn’t need to pee. A wave of relief washed over her—she could stay exactly where she was.
She closed her eyes again, her body settling into the soft embrace of the mattress. Sleep began to pull her under when she felt it.
Lub-dub.
It was faint, distant, and odd. Not quite a sound, more a vibration, as though the air around her carried the echo of a heartbeat too sluggish to belong to anything alive. She froze, straining her ears. The sensation faded, replaced by the silence of the room.
Am I imagining it?
She waited, her senses sharpening. Then, there it was again.
Lub-dub.
Her heart raced, its tempo far too fast to match the ponderous pulse she felt—or heard. It seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere all at once. She scanned the room, her eyes darting to the faint shapes of furniture in the moonlight, then lingering on the corners where shadows pooled. Nothing was out of place. Jack and Bitter hadn’t stirred.
The pulse came again, slower, fainter. Lub-dub.
She focused, slowing her breath, her body sinking deeper into stillness as she opened herself to the strange rhythm. The sound—or sensation—was almost imperceptible now, like the heartbeat of something impossibly distant, reaching across vast gulfs of space or time to touch her awareness.
And then, it stopped.
She lay there, waiting, listening to the silence until her breath fell into a slow rhythm. The sensation didn’t return. After a long while, her muscles softened, her mind drifted, and sleep finally reclaimed her.