Threadless

A thread runs from every living body to the engine that turns the world. It takes what it's owed and leaves the shape of a person behind. No one remembers it being any other way. The Order keeps the binding taut. When a body slips the thread, they ride out to put it right. The country has a gentle word for that line of work. It calls it cleaning. But now and then a child is born the thread refuses. And a body the Loom can't hold can hold other things... Older things. Things that have desired a body for a very long time. Behind the last sealed doors of Greyspire, three of them are being kept. Fed. Studied. Held against the day someone decides when they'd be used. They don't know what they carry yet but they soon will.