Volume Two: Threads of Destiny
Crescent Hollow's newly opened gallery hummed with excitement. The walls were adorned with Lena's Loom tapestry—ribbons of light and shadow woven on canvas—each thread clicking faintly as viewers passed, as if the art itself were alive.
Lena stood near the entrance, heart fluttering under a simple black dress, her sketchbook tucked beneath her arm like an amulet. Aiden hovered at her side, his golden eyes soft with pride.
"Your work speaks to everyone," he murmured. "Look—see how they pause, entranced."
She followed his gaze. Local patrons leaned close, whispering to one another. Maya cheered from across the room, waving a glass of cider. Even Mayor Thorne, with his starched collar and wary smile, had stopped to admire the rim of silver swirling around the tapestry's edge.
Yet beneath the admiration, Lena sensed something else: a low current of unease.
Across the gallery, a tall stranger draped in charcoal-gray clothes watched the Loom with unnervingly still eyes. He held a slender cane tipped with a silver orb. Lena's pulse skipped. The orb pulsed faintly—an echo of the Threadstone's glow.
Aiden noticed her gaze. He stepped closer and whispered, "That's Rowan—a collector of rare Veil art."
Lena's stomach tightened. "He shouldn't be here."
Before she could ask why, Rowan turned and met her eyes. A slow smile curved his lips. He raised a gloved hand and tipped an imaginary hat.
Lena forced a calm nod. Behind her, Maya burst into laughter, drawing attention back to the tapestry.
Midway through the toast, Lena excused herself and slipped behind the velvet curtain that bordered the main hall, seeking a moment's reprieve. The hush beyond the curtain felt unnatural—too still.
Peering around the corner, she caught Rowan handling the orb. He traced a finger over its surface, and Lena's breath caught as the silver glowed, sending a ripple through her Loom tapestry. Threads of light flickered, dimmed, then steadied.
"Rowan!" Lena whispered, stepping forward.
He looked up, surprise flashing in his pale eyes. "Miss Ferris," he said, voice low. "I hoped we'd speak in private."
She crossed her arms. "Why were you testing the Loom?"
Rowan tucked the orb into his coat. "Art is alive because it's woven with intention. I wanted to see if your creation held under pressure." He sighed. "Forgive me, but the balance you claimed to restore... I needed proof."
Lena's chest tightened. "Proof? At the cost of destabilizing the Veil?"
"Only for a moment," he replied. "But I sensed weakness. Threads here frayed, echoing a deeper corruption."
She frowned. "Then help me—don't undermine me."
He stepped closer. "I intend to. But first, I must know you're ready."
A sudden clatter behind them made Rowan spin. The curtain fluttered as Aiden emerged, eyes blazing.
"Is that true?" Aiden asked, gaze flicking between them.
Rowan met Aiden's stance calmly. "I tested the tapestry's strength. I did not break it."
Lena swallowed. "It dimmed," she said softly. "I saw."
Rowan held up his cane. "I will show you how to reinforce it. But it will require more than art—it will require sacrifice."
Aiden's jaw clenched. "What does he mean?"
Rowan's silver orb lifted to eye level. "There's a heart to the Loom—an essence that must be bound. One thread must be offered: a personal memory tied to loss."
Silence fell. Lena's thoughts raced: which memory could she sacrifice? Her earliest childhood wonder? Her mother's lullaby? Her bond with Aiden?
Footsteps echoed as gallery staff approached. Rowan bowed deeply. "Until another time." With that, he vanished into the crowd.
Back in the main hall, Lena joined Aiden. He wrapped an arm around her. "Are you all right?"
She nodded, though her heart trembled. "He's testing us—pushing me toward something I'm not ready for."
Aiden placed a gentle hand on her cheek. "Whatever it is, we face it together."
Hand in hand, they reentered the gallery. The final guests lingered, eyes alight with wonder. And Lena realized: the Loom's threads stirred again.
Outside, the moonlight glinted off the silver orb Rowan left behind—its pulse matching the sudden thrum of her heart.