*LORD OF DESTINY: Chapter 13: The Rescue
The sky was tearing.
Red thread from the King’s hands went up into the clouds, and where it touched, the air went thin. Roofs peeled off. People fell to their knees, eyes blank, as their choices got pulled toward _one king, one rule_.
Kael looked at the twelve.
He looked at Lyra.
He looked at the cage.
“Split,” he said.
Lyra nodded once. “Got it, Teacher.”
Kael turned to the kids. The oldest girl squeezed his hand. “We hold the city,” she said. “You get her.”
“Don’t pull big,” Kael told them. “Small pulls. Keep people standing. Keep roofs on. Can you do that?”
Twelve heads nodded. Their twelve threads lifted and spread out over Karthos like a net.
The moment they pulled, the red in the sky dulled. A baker didn’t drop his bread. A woman didn’t step in front of a cart. Small things. Dozens. Hundreds.
The King saw it and snarled. “You think children can stop me?”
He yanked the red thread again.
Kael was already moving.
He ran. Not toward the King. Toward the cage.
Guards stepped in front of him. Kael didn’t fight them. He pulled.
One guard’s thread: he remembered his sister. He stepped aside.
Another: he remembered being 2 years old and scared. He dropped his spear.
Consequence hit. The scar burned. The black crawled up his jaw.
Kael ignored it.
The cage was iron. The child inside was curled up, tiny, the cut thread around her wrist dripping light onto the stone.
“Hey,” Kael said softly. “I’m here.”
The child looked up. Her eyes were white. Like Coren’s used to be. Like the Weaver’s.
She didn’t cry. She just held out her hand.
Kael reached through the bars. The moment his fingers touched hers, the rope of twelve threads on his wrist snapped forward and wrapped around the cage lock.
It didn’t break. It _unmade_. The iron forgot how to be a lock and fell apart.
The King roared. “NO!”
He dropped the big red thread and pulled a knife. He dove for the child.
Lyra was there first.
Her sword met his knife with a scream of metal.
“You touch her, and I’ll cut more than your hand,” she said.
“Get her out,” Lyra said over her shoulder. “I’ve got him.”
Kael scooped the child up. She was so light. The cut thread was still bleeding. He pressed his hand over it.
His own black thread reached out and touched hers.
It stitched.
Not perfectly. Not clean. But it stopped bleeding. The child gasped and her eyes went back to brown.
She wrapped her arms around Kael’s neck and whispered, “Teacher.”
From the sky, the twelve kids pulled harder. The red thread went slack. Buildings settled.
The King dropped to his knees, staring at his empty hands. “It was supposed to be order,” he whispered. “It was supposed to be safe.”
Kael stood, the child in his arms. The twelve came running, threads flying back to their wrists.
He looked at the King. No anger. Just tired.
“Safe isn’t one choice,” Kael said. “It’s all of them. Together.”
He turned and walked out of the courtyard.
Lyra followed, sword still out.
Twelve kids followed, holding hands.
Behind them, the King wept.