Page 115 of A Fate Unwoven
FIFTY
LENA
The memory Venysa had conjured of her childhood home had begun to crumble. The burned huts went first, followed by the well in the center, and then the sky itself turned to black, its edges creeping closer and closer with every passing second. Lena was just about to shut her eyes, to give in to the darkness, when she felt her magic stir as the familiar echo of Casimir’s voice called to her.
It was weak, a barely perceptible flutter in her veins, but it was enough to bring the village back into focus. To keep the darkness threatening to devour her at bay.
Fight, Lenora.Another voice now. Unfamiliar, but strong enough to clear the remaining darkness in Lena’s mind. Slowly, like ice thawing, sensation began to return to Lena’s body. The numbness of her fingers. The pain in her head. She was sucking in a deep breath, gathering the strength to rise back to her knees—just as a wave of magical energy crashed into her.
What little of her own magic Lena had managed to grasp slipped out of reach.
“Your foolish friends think they can stop me?” Venysa laughed, the sound a furious, bitter thing.
Lena had just enough awareness left to see the blurred form of the first Fateweaver striding toward her. To see the flash of rage in her silver eyes, and something else hovering just beneath it that Lena recognized all too well.
Fear.
The shadows surrounding Venysa’s threads were seeping out into the air around her, forming a mist of dark energy that Venysa began to gather into her hands. Lena’s own magic stirred in response, the threads around her vibrating with energy.
They felt the same as they had just before Lena had broken her bond to Dimas. Raw and powerful andhers.
A blast of magical energy slammed into her, weaker than before. Still strong enough to steal the breath from her lungs, to make her vision swim, but not enough to pull her into the darkness that had almost claimed her just moments before. Whatever Dimas and the others were doing back in the physical world, it was working, weakening Venysa enough to give Lena a fighting chance.
When the blast cleared, Lena found the first Fateweaver peering down her nose at her, the web of threads surrounding her still pulsating with that strange, dark mist. It inched toward Lena. Toward her own slowly dimming threads.
This was it. Venysa was going to kill her. No, not just kill her. If what Brother Dunstan had warned was true, then Venysa was going to destroy everything that made Lenaher.Her heart, her mind, herspirit.
Unless Lena destroyed hers first.
Except Lena didn’t knowhow.At least—not alone.
Please.
Lena reached out with her magic to the unfamiliar voice that had called to her and found not a single thread, but many strands woven together. Vision after vision swept through her mind as her magic made contact with them, each one of a different Fateweaver; their facesblurred together, but Lena could feel their emotions as they showed her their pasts. The grief as they were taken from their homes, their pride at discovering they were to be the next Fateweaver.
And their sorrow when they learned of Næbya’s betrayal.
We have been watching,they said, their voices blending into one.We know the truth of Næbya’s lies.
Then help me,Lena pleaded.Help me put an end to this.
Silence. Lena held back a sob as the visions faded, leaving her surrounded by the memory of Venysa’s home once more. But the strands of threads … they were still there. Still glowing.
And in the center of them all was a single, dark thread.
Lena’s breath hitched. Venysa had said Næbya had bound her soul to the Fateweavers’ essence. If this thread was the manifestation of that connection, then perhaps unweaving it from the other Fateweavers’ threads would break it.
There was no guarantee it would work. No guarantee that the power it required wouldn’t take everything Lena had left, or that she could remove it without doing irreparable damage to herself or the Fateweavers who came before her. But if that thread was the link between Venysa and the Fateweavers’ magic, then it was a risk she was willing to take.
And so, as Venysa’s dark magic wrapped around her, Lena closed her eyes and thought of her mother’s embrace. Of Finæn’s and Maia’s steady presence in her life. Of Casimir, his face inches from hers, his expression vulnerable as he made a vow to the world.They don’t get to win.
And finally, of the villagers Lena had spent her life telling her stories to. Of their gaunt faces and the mourning candles that were too frequently lit.Help me,Lena demanded.Help me show them that we are not the monsters of this story.
Something shifted in the air around her. Lena was aware of the sensation of people standing behind her. Of the hum of power in her blood. Her magic was a well inside of her, and Lena could barely breathe as, one by one, the spirits of the past Fateweavers poured their power into it.
Intoher.
Lena opened her eyes. Focused on the dark thread.
