“The town is ready,” Stella said in agreement. “No more divides.”
Nova gave a slow nod. “The Wards cannot be restored piecemeal. If the new curse is to be broken, all factions must return. Perhaps this is the beginning.”
The words landed heavily in my chest.
“But it’s not just stitching itself together, is it? Something, someone, is pulling the thread.”
“And pushing it.”
Stella’s eyes narrowed. “And Malore is worried.”
The name dropped into the space like ice, and summer’s warmth did little to defrost anything.
She continued. “Do not confuse ally with enemy too quickly, or vice versa. Not everything that returns is corruption, and not everything that returns is virtuous. Some returns might be only to mend or blind.”
Her words stirred an image inside of me, with silver fur rippling in the dusk, eyes like molten ice staring into mine. Watching. Waiting.
“If Stonewick is mending,” I said slowly as my throat tightened. “What does that say about the man who left?”
Nova’s gaze softened, but her words carried no comfort. “That some truths are not yet ready to return and may never be.”
“How do you return to a son you abandoned?” Stella shrugged. “It takes more courage to return than to leave at that point.”
The silence pressed heavier than before. I stared into my tea, watching the color swirl, desperate to ground myself in something ordinary.
Twobble shifted noisily, breaking the spell. “Well, if the village is taking requests, I’d like a new pie shop to appear. One that doesn’t run out of apple crumble before I get there. Has anyone else noticed that issue?”
Bella groaned. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” Twobble huffed. “If we’re talking about destiny and threads and curses, then someone ought to be taking orders. Balance, Maeve. The universe loves balance.”
Laughter bubbled up despite the ache in my chest. Even Nova’s lips twitched.
Stella waved a hand, smirking. “You’ll get your pie, goblin. For now, hush and let the grown-ups plot.”
“How rude.” He scowled. “I’m older than most here.”
“Wouldn’t know it,” Stella chided.
He muttered under his breath but reached for another scone anyway.
The warmth in the shop swelled again, steadier now, though the shadows still lingered outside the room. Stella poured another round of tea, her bracelets clinking softly.
Ardetia lifted her cup with delicate fingers. “If the Silver Wolf has returned, then she is a piece of the answer. Perhaps not the whole, but a beginning.”
“Keegan’s beginning,” I murmured, almost to myself.
“Or end,” Twobble said, shaking his head. “Hard to know.”
“Yes,” Nova agreed solemnly.
The words hit me hard as I tried to focus on the bigger picture, but the pain in Keegan’s gaze haunted me every second.
“No such thing,” Stella said, shaking her head. “That man is as stubborn as they come. He’ll see this through. He’ll be at Maeve’s side once more.”
Outside the window, the village bustled on, oblivious to the storm coiling above it. But here, in this little shop that smelled of everything cozy and sweet, I felt the faintest tug of hope.
Stonewick was stitching itself back together. Whether for healing or for ruin, I didn’t know. But the needle had already pierced the fabric. The thread was pulling tight.
