Part II

Chapter 10 The Golden Thread

The morning air in San is soft and brittle, full of the promise of roads not yet taken. Karim and I pack up early, the sky outside still silver as he checks the route to Timbuktu one last time.

I sit by the window, satellite phone in hand, uploading photos and notes to Mrs H., my right hand and unseen anchor in another world. My focus slips and snags on that old familiar tingle — a slow ooze of golden liquid, unwanted and unmistakable, soaking through fabric and patience alike. I scowl at the stain with a sigh.

Magic again. Always at moments of transition. Either Tarmo or Asdar must be near — but which one, I can’t say. I press my palm against my belly, restless. My guess is Tarmo; a certain wildness seems to thicken the air.

Karim notices. He pulls the car off the road without a word, gravel crunching beneath the tires, and reaches into the back for the hand-dyed wraps the women of Kayar pressed into my hands with warmth and laughter.

The full chapter — including what the night brings, and who waits on the other side of sleep — is available unabridged on Ream.

https://reamstories.com/phaedrasfables/public

© 2026 CYcrds | I.Ph. de Lange