Her hair was black, falling loose over her shoulder, catching the light as she leaned into him like she belonged there. Her hands rested at his chest, familiar, unafraid. Ezra’s touch was reverent, not desperate—like he wasn’t trying to keep her, only choosing her.
She was not Farris.
The realization struck hard enough to steal my breath. I tore my hand away as the threads recoiled, the vision shattering into sparks that dissolved back into the night. Ezra would never choose someone over Farris. Something about the vision felt wrong. Maybe the heavens were fucking with me again.
Ezra turned toward me, brow furrowing. “What was that?”
“Nothing,” I said too quickly.
The word tasted like a lie, but I didn’t take it back.
I couldn’t.
Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe the fates showed me the wrong woman by accident.
Ezra searched my face for a moment, then exhaled slowly, looking back toward the estate. “She didn’t stay,” he said again, quieter this time. “That has to mean something.”
I nodded, even as my chest tightened.
“It does,” I agreed.
My gaze drifted back to the city lights, to the endless weave of paths I could see but no longer fully control.
For the first time in a long while, fate had shown me Ezra's future and it was nothing close to what it had been. Which meant something in the fates were still fucked.
“Wellthat puts us in a bind.” I sighed. “Now we have no one to kidnap.”
“I was looking forward to seeing her again,” Ezra sighed.
I swallowed hard knowing that he loved Farris with everything he was. The vision was wrong, that is what I told myself over and over again.
“I don’t know how much longer I can go without seeing Elowyn,” I confessed.
Ezra nodded as we both looked over the twinkling lights of Falgon.
“Let’s head to my housewhile we figure things out,in case Farris is headed there,” Ezra suggested.
“Alright.”
I glanced at the city once more,wondering where Elowyn was hiding. My gazeturnedtoward the woods. She would never live in the city. She liked solitude,like I did.
Where are you, little weaver?
Chapter 26
Elowyn
Farris and I were minding our own business, drinking tea together at the table, when something hit the front door.
The sound wasn’t just a knock; it was a sharp, echoingthudthat rattled through the floorboards. My body went rigid. There was a ward around the house. No one should be able to get that close. The air itself felt wrong, like the ward had hiccuped, or something had forced its way through.
Farris stood from the couch, every movement tense, and started toward the door.
“Wait.” I walked from the kitchen, drying my damp hands on my skirt as my pulse picked up speed. “Something feels wrong about this.”
Farris nodded, but the determination in her eyes didn’t falter. She took another slow, deliberate step forward.
“There is a ward, so whatever just came through has to be powerful,” she whispered, voice tight enough to snap.
