The Threadbound series : Unraveling

Useful or being Used

Ash

The view from the top of the Drakmoor hills was nothing short of mesmerizing. Stretching as far as the eye could see, the landscape was a blend of breathtaking beauty and natural wonder. The hills were a vibrant tapestry of lush greenery, with the golden hues of sunlight kissing the foliage, giving it an almost ethereal glow.

The centerpiece of this magnificent vista was the Goldfalls, the famous waterfall of Drakmoor. Cascading from great heights, it was a shimmering ribbon of crystal-clear water that tumbled gracefully over jagged cliffs, creating a captivating display of nature's grandeur. The Goldfalls glistened like molten gold in the warm, dappled sunlight, with each droplet catching the light in a splendid dance. The sound of the cascading water was like a symphony, a soothing and melodious backdrop to the stunning scenery.

We had been to this place before.

Alex has a deep love for hills, mountains, rocks, and cliffs and anything with a height from which he can jump off.

I sat at the very edge of a rock at the top of the waterfall, my feet dangling into the abyss. Alex stood behind me, his presence comforting and reassuring.

I could feel the warmth of his body and hear the subtle rumble of his chest as he spoke.

"Kit was like you," he said, and I turned to look at him. Alex rarely spoke of Kristaphane Raaha, his twin brother. The memories of Kit's tragic murder by the rogues, right in front of Alex, haunted him still. I knew this because sometimes, in the dead of night, he would scream in his sleep, just as I did. We shared a silent understanding of these unspoken nightmares.

My expression must have conveyed my surprise, and Alex chuckled softly. "I meant Kit was also afraid of heights," he clarified, a bittersweet smile playing on his lips. "And like you, he was the responsible one. But, unlike you, he was a pretty cool person."

I playfully punched his chest and retorted, "I am a very cool person."

Alex chuckled.

"So tell me," he began to ask for something, but my heart pounded in my chest, drowning out his words. It felt as though the world around us was closing in, and I struggled to comprehend what he was asking.

Then, a sudden interruption jolted me awake and I found myself in my bed. A loud, persistent knocking echoed through the room, growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment.

"Ash, open up!" the voice from beyond the door demanded. Door? I thought I was out with Alex.

"It's not real," the voice shouted, struggling to be heard over the pounding on the door.

Confusion and fear swirled within me, as the lines between reality and nightmare blurred. What was happening? What did the voice mean?

I walked towards the door but ended up hitting my head against a wall? No, I collided with someone. I rubbed my forehead.

"Sash,you okay?" My dazed eyes slowly focused, and I found myself staring into the concerned green eyes of Glenn Ivangelista.

He pointed to a notice that hung nearby. "I asked you, would you like to go to the fair with me," he said with a hopeful smile. I followed his gesture, my eyes scanning the vibrant poster that advertised the upcoming Arcanara Fair. The poster burst with colors, promising a world of enchantment.

The fair was a celebration of all things magical. It would be a place where the extraordinary met the ordinary, where the veilweavers would unveil their mystic talents, and fortune tellers would peer into the unknown to reveal secrets. The air would be thick with an otherworldly allure, filled with whispers of spells, and the aromas of tantalizing food would waft through the crowd.

"Yeah, Sash, we can all go," Apollo chimed in, his voice warm and inviting. I turned to look at him, and there he stood with his arms wrapped around Anna Hartmann, their love as clear as day.

"I would have to ask my dad," I replied, my voice filled with regret. Deep down, I knew he wouldn't allow it. Even though my friends' parents were my dad's childhood friends, he never let me be around them more than was absolutely necessary.

"Friends will be a distraction," he'd always say, "there is no such thing as real friends." It was as if he believed that any connection with others outside his influence was a threat to me. He didn't like me going out with my friends, and I was well aware that if I dared to ask about going to the fair, he would simply say "no." And if my face showed even the slightest glint of disappointment or emotion, he would scold me relentlessly until dawn, reminding me how I should be grateful that I was even allowed to call them friends.

The weight of his expectations and restrictions pressed down on me, making it difficult to even consider the possibility of joining my friends at the enchanting Arcanara Fair.

"You are sixteen, Sash, you are your own person," Anna said, her voice full of soft understanding and sympathy.

"Or you can sneak out, like you did today," Pol chimed in.

"Sash, your dad is using you. He is forcing his dreams upon you," Glenn added, his concern evident.

"No, he's not. He never wanted to be an Elder. It was my dream, my idea - he is just looking after me," I retorted. Then, I added, "I will ask Granny, then."

But Glenn shook his head and said, "She is the worst. She is using you to create a rebellion."

Rebellion? The word echoed in my mind, stirring a whirlwind of emotions. I couldn't comprehend what kind of rebellion he was talking about.

Glenn continued, "Your dad is using you for more power and control.Your Granny is using you to start a rebellion..Even Alexander is using you."

The weight of that revelation hit me like a tidal wave, and I felt my emotions tumbling into turmoil. Confusion, anger, and a deep sense of betrayal washed over me.

"No," I cried out, my eyes welling up with tears as I took a few steps back, trying to distance myself from the overwhelming truth.

"Everyone is using you.Because you think being used is being useful, And I told you that so many times ..so many times that the words lose the meaning" Glenn said, his words laced with a bitterness I hadn't heard in a long time. There was a history of hurt behind his words, a hurt that I had caused by leaving him behind. Wait, how do I know that? I didn't go to the fair with him. I left Arcanara that day.

"Glenn, I..." I started, but before I could find the words, a loud noise filled the air, like the tolling of bells. I turned to the direction of the sound and I spotted a gathering of people, and without thinking, I found myself walking toward the crowd.

The scene before me was a haunting tableau of despair and anguish. The square was teeming with a restless, murmuring crowd. Their faces bore the weight of impending tragedy, drawn by morbid curiosity and a heavy sense of duty.

The guillotine stood tall, an ominous and unforgiving apparatus, its cold, steel blade glinting in the pale light of dawn.

As the masked executioner released the sinister hold on his face, a gasp rippled through the crowd, and my heart seized. There, condemned to the merciless embrace of the guillotine, was my father. The sight sent shivers down my spine and left me paralyzed with disbelief.

The threadhunter, the merciless conductor of this macabre symphony, his voice gravelly and filled with sinister authority, inquired if my father had any last words. With tears welling up in his eyes, my father, a man who had struggled through life's trials, who had faltered but never lost his love for me, whispered, "Sashelle, I tried so hard to turn into a useful person, but like always, you ended up disappointing me. Still, I love you."

His words were a dagger to my heart, a relentless reminder of all the missed opportunities to reconcile. I cried, my anguish an echo of his own torment. The pain in his eyes as he spoke those last words was etched into my memory, an indelible scar on my soul.

Then, with a deafening, ominous thud, the blade fell, severing my father's earthly ties and ending his suffering. The world seemed to stop as I cried out, a guttural, heart-wrenching shriek that escaped my lips, resonating with the collective grief of the onlookers. The weight of sorrow bore down upon me, crushing my spirit, and I crumpled to the ground, the world fading into darkness as I fell unconscious, my mind shattered into irreparable pieces.