Smoke rose again — but this time, it wasn't from power duels or forge fires.
It was from Leia's street.
She came sprinting down the alley, heart in her throat, breath ragged. The woven satchel bounced at her hip — thread and rune-scraps tucked inside.
The door to their shed was half-hinged.
And Selene… wasn't there.
Leia burst in, eyes sweeping the room.
Cloak — gone.
Mat — overturned.
Then she heard it — voices outside. Angry. Mocking.
"…she's the thread girl's mother, ain't she?"
Leia pushed past the curtain and stepped into the alley.
---
Four boys stood there, surrounding Selene. One of them had flame on his fingers. Another twirled a crowbar lazily.
They were laughing.
Selene stood still, chin raised — but Leia saw the cut near her shoulder. The bruise on her jaw.
"Let her go."
The words slipped out cold. Steel-sharp.
The boys turned.
"Ah," said the one with fire. "The little tailor herself."
Leia stepped forward, cloak rolled under her arm.
She could feel the pulse already — the runes wanting her. Wanting to protect.
The boy took a step toward her, flame flickering brighter.
"Or what? Gonna knit us to death?"
Leia didn't speak.
She just flung the cloak over her shoulders and locked the clasp.
---
Flame-boy raised his hand.
"Let's see it, then."
FWWOOOSH.
The fire hit her square on.
This time, she didn't even flinch.
The rune shimmered brighter, stronger — as if angered.
Leia stepped through the flame, eyes locked.
The boy backed up, stumbling. "What the—?!"
She grabbed a thread from her pouch and snapped it forward like a whip — it wrapped his wrist. Sizzling.
He screamed.
Another lunged, swinging the crowbar — the cloak deflected it, sending a sharp vibration up his arm.
"Get out!" she barked.
They ran.
---
Selene sank to her knees.
Leia rushed to her side, helping her up gently.
"I'm okay," Selene whispered, though her breath was thin.
Leia wrapped the edge of the cloak around her mother's shoulder, shielding her from the dusk wind.
A few neighbors peeked from windows — silent. Watching.
Then a girl, maybe thirteen, murmured:
> "That's her. The thread witch."
Another voice added:
> "She doesn't need fire. She wears it."
Leia didn't look at them.
She just held her mother close — her heart trembling even while her cloak didn't.
---
Later that night, as she mended her mother's torn sleeve, Leia whispered to the rune on her cloak:
"You're more than I thought."
The mark on her wrist pulsed in reply.
Not with magic.
With memory.
With bond.