'I don't know,' says Sela. She looks at Milla, and there it is: a fat, fluffy, pink-and-gold thread, made of light, extending from her to Milla. It's not a real thread, like in the sewing box. And it's not actually made of light, either. It's a connection of some kind, and Milla's thoughts and feelings mingle with her own along it. Sela has never felt so close to anyone before, believes that it isn't possible to feel so close to anyone.
'What's happening?' says Milla. 'I feel very strange.'
'I feel like I could just let go and disappear forever,' says Sela, her voice soft and airy. She's starting to forget who's who. Is she Sela, or Milla? Is she anyone at all?
She gets a glimpse of something, something that is powerful and true. As Sela slips into Milla and Milla and Sela slip away together, something deeper and more real than either of them begins to appear in its place. Sela is filled with a rush of emotion she can't explain.
'I don't like this,' says Milla. Sela looks at her and sees the thread that isn't a thread convulse, thick runnels of purple and green and brown now coursing through, spoiling the pinkness, pulling it taut, making it ugly.
Revulsion. Milla's or hers? Milla is afraid of her: has always been afraid of her. Has always found Sela unsettling.
No, Sela's revulsion. Disgust at Milla's betrayal.
Who is feeling this?
The door slams open and Lord Tanen bolts into the room. He is not supposed to be here!
'Sela!' he shouts. 'She is one of their spies! Milla is an assassin of the unreal!' 'No!' screams Sela, jerking back, away from Milla.
Milla and Sela are terrified. Milla and Sela want to be away.
Lord Tanen is carrying something, something that shines. Milla and Sela are afraid of it.
No, Milla is afraid of it. Sela wants it. Sela reaches out for it.
Lord Tanen puts the knife in Sela's hand, and the thread between her and Milla goes black, black, black.
'You know what must be done,' says Tanen.
Milla skitters backward. Sela can feel her confusion and terror. Terror of Sela. She knows who is who now.
Sela advances on Milla and, with trembling fingers, kills her. It's so easy; the ones that Lord Tanen provides for her lessons have far more fight in them. The thread vanishes not in an instant, not as the knife slices the flesh, but slowly, sluggishly.
'Congratulations,' says Lord Tanen. 'Today you have completed your training.'
Sela turns on Lord Tanen, the knife wet in her grasp. A girl's blood looks just like anyone else's. A real girl? An unreal girl? Sela draws the blade of the knife across her wrist, severing the vein there. The blood is just the same. No difference.
'It's too much for her,' comes a voice behind Lord Tanen. One of the crones. She's not sure which one. 'You went too far with this one, just like we told you.'
'Hush!' shouts Lord Tanen, wheeling on the crone. 'She's just fine. She's stronger than any of the others.'
Too far. Sela lets go of the knife. It's a meaningless object, a protrusion into space of lines and angles. A weight, nothing more. A minute ago she'd almost seen something, something beyond all of this meaninglessness. She has it in her grasp, but knows that if she looks there again, she will cease to be.
'Come along now,' says Lord Tanen. 'It's time you and I had a long conversation.'
Sela's body is, she realizes, unreal. It too is simply space and lines and angles. Machines moving and humming, insensate, collaborating in the illusion of being. It is coming at her again, the thing she saw, from a different angle. The thing that will consume her.
'What is it?' asks Lord Tanen, looking into her eyes. A thread forms. Very unlike the first. Sela sees him and knows him. Knows who and what he is and what he wants and why, but it's much too much, and the thing that wants to eat her is reaching up to swallow her into everything, and so she shows it to Lord Tanen instead.
Lord Tanen makes a funny sound. Not just odd, but humorous. Sela almost giggles. Everything is too big and horrid, and this thing that wants to eat her is consuming Lord Tanen and his only response is to make such a silly little noise.
Someone screams. One of the crones, she assumes. She shows the thing to the crone, too. Why not? It will eat everything sooner or later, she knows. Only a matter of time. Might as well save Sela for last.
More screaming, and now running, slamming. Sela has closed her eyes; she doesn't want to see any of this, no thank you.
