The Garden and the Thread

The garden shimmered with quiet magic — not cast or conjured, but natural, ambient, alive. Vines curled delicately around trimmed arches, and the wind carried the subtle scent of lilies and honeysuckle through the hedges. Bees hummed lazily near the pond, and the splash of the estate’s single grand fountain echoed faintly from deeper within the garden.

It sat at the far end of a cobbled center path, nestled inside a circular clearing. No one standing at the mansion could see it fully at once — not with the high hedges and waist-tall shrubs shielding pieces of it like a secret waiting to be uncovered.

Two girls wandered that path now, their laughter laced with mischief.

Both wore light spring dresses, the kind tailored with wealth in mind — silks and soft cotton, detailed embroidery at the hems, and subtle flourishes that matched the crests of their respective houses. Rose’s dress was a pale, noble ivory. Jade’s carried sky-blue tones threaded with silver. They didn’t match, but the pairing spoke of balance — of lives meant to run parallel.

Jade’s curls bounced with every step, untamed and voluminous, while Rose’s hair, jet-black like hers, fell long and pin-straight, flowing past her shoulders with polished grace. Even in play, their differences clung like lineage.

At polite distances along the path stood a handful of maids in matching navy dresses and crisp white aprons; their hair tied neatly into buns. Most stood silently in shaded spots near the estate’s perimeter, stationed more as presence than interference.

The closest one, barely visible in the partial shadow of the mansion’s covered veranda, stifled a yawn behind her hand. Her posture was straight, but her mind had long since numbed to the routine of watching noble daughters prance about under the sun.

“I bet we could tether,” Jade whispered, half-serious, half-hopeful, voice low but glinting.

Rose tilted her head toward her, already smiling at the idea. “Follow me.”

She grabbed Jade’s hand and tugged, skirts brushing the cobblestones as they ran toward the end of the path. The distant fountain rose ahead like a monument. They ducked behind its wide marble base just as the nearby maid blinked from her daze.

With both grace and eagerness, the woman stepped onto the path, moving quickly now to regain sight of them. She squinted toward the fountain, trying to angle past the hedge blocking the view. For just a moment, she thought she saw the clear top stream of water flicker gold — just briefly. A trick of the sun, perhaps.

Behind the fountain, the girls crouched low, their hands clasped tightly.

Golden mana, laced with threads of white, began to spiral between their fingers — a radiant helix, familiar and ancient. Light flared up from their joined palms like a flame suddenly fed oxygen, heat and brilliance rushing outward in a growing pulse.

For a second, they felt it.

The tether.

But in the very next moment — it collapsed. The magic died mid-flight, like a flame searching in vain for air that wasn’t there. The bond had tried to form... but it wasn’t enough.

There was no oxygen.
There was no tether.

The glow vanished. Their hands fell still.

And they laughed — gasping, wide-eyed, from the thrill of nearly pulling it off and the risk of getting caught. Their laughter rose in pitch as the maid finally caught sight of them, her brow pinched in mild suspicion.

She approached slowly, scanning them both head to toe, careful not to break the spell of their play.

No injuries. No tears. Just flushed cheeks and secrets behind their smiles.

She exhaled, steadying herself, and resumed her station a few paces back — close enough to respond, far enough to let them pretend they were alone.

Then came the voice, elegant and unwavering, from the stone archway that framed the garden’s entrance:

“Rose! Time to change for lunch, dear. Let Jade head home.”

The girls froze. Then Rose stood, brushing stray leaves from her dress. “Coming!” she called back, her voice bright with practiced cheer.

Jade’s laughter faded into a soft grin as she watched her friend skip across the garden, black hair catching the sun like silk.

They never spoke of the failed tether again.

But deep in Jade’s chest, something hollowed out.

She never looked back to see if I was keeping up, she would say years later, voice steady with age. 

Even then.