In a world where every individual is born with a visible red thread connecting them to their soulmate, society has built itself around these bonds. However, a rare few are born without threads, known as "Untethered," and are often ostracized.
Our protagonist, an Untethered, has lived a life on the fringes, concealing their lack of a thread to avoid societal backlash. They work as a "Thread Cutter," someone who severs threads for those seeking freedom from predestined love.
One day, they meet someone desperate to cut their thread, claiming their soulmate is dangerous. As they delve deeper, the protagonist uncovers a clandestine society that believes in forging one's own destiny, challenging the very fabric of their world.
Chapter 1: Untethered Destiny
“I don’t care how much it costs,” the woman hissed, her voice trembling, her hands clutching the edge of the worn wooden table. “Just cut it. Now.”
The dim light of the underground workshop flickered against her face, casting shadows that danced across her high cheekbones and the faint red thread that glowed faintly around her wrist. It was a thread that pulsed with a life of its own, delicate yet unyielding, connecting her to a destiny she clearly wanted no part of.
The protagonist, known only as Cutter, leaned back in their chair, their face obscured by the hood of their cloak. They didn’t speak immediately, letting the silence stretch between them like the threads they severed for a living. Their own wrists were bare, a fact they took great care to conceal beneath layers of fabric. Untethered. The word hung unspoken in the air, a secret they carried like a weight.
“You understand what you’re asking, don’t you?” Cutter finally said, their voice low and measured. “Once it’s gone, it’s gone. There’s no tying it back together.”
The woman’s eyes widened, a flicker of doubt crossing her face before it was replaced with something harder, more resolute. “I don’t want it. He’s... he’s dangerous. I can’t explain it, but I know.”
Cutter studied her for a moment longer, then gave a curt nod. They reached into the folds of their cloak and pulled out a small, glittering blade. It was no ordinary knife—it was forged from a rare metal, one that could sever the threads of fate without leaving a trace. The blade caught the light, its edge gleaming like a shard of ice.
“Hold out your wrist,” Cutter instructed, their voice steady despite the storm of questions swirling in their mind.
It had been a year since Cutter had started this life, shrouded in secrecy and shadows. They’d learned to navigate the world of the Tethered, to hide their true nature, to blend in. But it wasn’t always this way. Once, they’d been a child, staring at their own bare wrist with a mix of confusion and shame. The other children had pointed, whispered, laughed. Untethered. The word had followed them like a curse.
As they grew older, they learned to adapt. They became a Thread Cutter, a profession born of necessity. There were always those who wanted to escape their fate, who saw the threads as chains rather than promises. And Cutter had discovered they had a knack for it. They could sever the threads cleanly, without pain, without regret. Or so they told themselves.
But this woman... there was something different about her. Something in the way she spoke, in the way her thread pulsed faintly, as if it were fighting to stay intact. Cutter couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just another job. This was something more.
The woman hesitated for a moment, then extended her wrist. The thread glowed brighter, as if sensing the impending severance. Cutter placed the blade against the thread, their hand steady despite the unease prickling at the edges of their consciousness.
“Are you sure?” they asked one last time, their voice barely above a whisper.
The woman’s eyes met theirs, and for a moment, Cutter saw something raw and unguarded in her gaze. Fear, yes, but also something else. Defiance. Determination. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
Cutter nodded and with a swift, practiced motion, brought the blade down.
The thread parted with a sound like a distant sigh, the severed ends glowing briefly before dissolving into thin air. The woman gasped, her hand flying to her chest as if she’d just lost something vital. And maybe she had.
“It’s done,” Cutter said, their voice flat, though their heart was racing. They’d done this countless times, but something about this one felt different. Wrong.
The woman stared at her wrist, now bare, and then looked up at Cutter. “Thank you,” she said, her voice softer now, almost vulnerable. “I... I don’t know how to repay you.”
Cutter shook their head. “You’ve paid. That’s all that matters.”
But as the woman turned to leave, Cutter couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
Later that night, Cutter sat alone in their workshop, the blade resting on the table in front of them. They stared at it, their mind racing. Who was that woman? And what had she been running from?
As if in answer, a soft knock echoed through the room. Cutter stiffened, their hand instinctively reaching for the blade. “Who’s there?” they called, their voice sharp.
The door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside. It was the woman, her face pale, her eyes wide with terror. “You have to help me,” she whispered. “He’s found me.”
Before Cutter could respond, the door burst open, and a man stepped inside. His face was obscured by shadows, but the red thread coiled around his wrist glowed like a warning. He looked at Cutter, then at the woman, and smiled.
“Did you really think you could run from me?” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “We’re soulmates.”
Cutter’s grip tightened on the blade. “Get behind me,” they said to the woman, their voice steady despite the fear coiling in their chest.
The man laughed, a sound that sent a chill down Cutter’s spine. “You think you can protect her? You’re just an Untethered.”
The word hit like a blow, but Cutter didn’t flinch. They stepped forward, the blade glinting in the dim light. “She’s not yours anymore,” they said, their voice cold. “You’ll have to go through me first.”
The man’s smile faded, replaced by a snarl. “Fine. Let’s see what happens when an Untethered tries to play hero.”
The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken threats and the promise of violence. Cutter met the man’s gaze, their heart pounding in their chest. They’d spent their life hiding, trying to stay invisible. But now... now there was no choice.
The man lunged, and Cutter raised the blade, ready to fight. “Let’s see,” they muttered, “what happens when someone tries to forge their own destiny.”
For the updated chapter, head here.
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