Page 89 of A Fate Unwoven

Something sparked against her skin. Lena closed her eyes. Braced herself not to fight against the magic and the vision it brought with it.

And then—

Nothing.

Not even a flicker of the vision. Lena shook her head, her throat burning. “Show me!” Her hand slammed against the stone hard enough to hurt. “Comeon,dammit!”

This had to work. Ithadto. She’d risked everything to open this fates-forsaken door. Hadtriedeverything.

Not everything,her magic reminded her at the same as Lena became aware of the hum of Casimir’s threads behind her.

Almost as if in a trance, Lena turned, her eyes opening to the bright web of Casimir’s threads. They were brighter than they’d ever been, so tangible Lena could have brushed her fingers against them.

She was hoping that channeling the magic here would be enough. That she wouldn’t have to use her power on Casimir, after all.

It seemed fate had other plans.

“It’s alright, Lena,” Casimir said, his eyes so tenderly soft it made Lena ache. “We knew it’d come to this. We practiced for it.”

They had, but those had been small things. The outcome of a game of Fate. The luck of a coin toss. But to summon the kind of power she’d need to re-activate her vision, Lena would have to change something bigger. Something potentiallylife-changing. Panic stole the breath from her lungs. What if she changed the wrong thing? What if she hurt him in ways she couldn’t take back?

“If you have any doubts—”

“I don’t.” Casimir’s voice was firm. “Just … don’t tell me what you change, okay? I think it’s better that I don’t know.” He gave no more explanation, but Lena thought she understood. Knowing the future wasn’t always the gift theZværnaOrder made it out to be.

Not trusting herself to speak, Lena simply nodded. Already her magic was inching toward Casimir’s threads, and for the first time since she’d become the Fateweaver …

Lena did not resist.

Casimir’s threads sparked before her eyes, bright enough to burn, and thefeelof them … Sisters, it was intoxicating. Like warm, honeyedwine on a frosted night. And they belonged toher.Every thread, every path his life could possibly take, all hers for the taking.

“Stay with me,” Casimir said. He must have noticed something change in her expression, a slight shift in her focus, but he didn’t back away. Instead, he reached for her hand, warm, calloused fingers wrapping around the smooth skin of her marked wrist. “The magic will guide you, Lena. You have to let it.”

Lena did.

As she had done with the sick boy, Lena let her magic brush against each thread, searching for one that felt stronger. Her training had revealed that these were the threads attached to important events, the ones that required more power to weave.

There.

That one. A spark of energy went through Lena as soon as her magic made contact.Show me,she willed. A second of nothing but brightness, and then Lena was somewhere else. Stone mountains rose up around her. There was the sound of waves crashing against the shore. The smell of salt in the air.

Then there was the blurred figures of a dozen armed soldiers. The whistle of an arrow flying through the air.

Casimir’s face, his lips stained with blood.

No!

The vision stopped, the events playing out in reverse before starting up again. And this time, when the arrow flew toward Casimir, Lenora watched as someone shoved him out of the way. As he stumbled to the ground, safe from what she was certain had been a fatal wound.

This one,she commanded her newly strengthened magic,this shall be his fate.

Yes,her magic answered.

And then the vision was gone, and the thread Lena’s magic had connected with began to split in two. The light of one half dimmed, whilst the other surged like a flame that swept over Lena in a torrentof unrelenting power. The kind that filled every inch of her and threatened to burn her up until there was nothing left.

Lena didn’t fight it.Show me,she willed, one final time.Show me how to open the door.The vision didn’t come to her like the first time, bits and pieces scattered through her mind like remnants of a dream she couldn’t remember. No, this time shewastheZværnaacolyte, ancient power roiling in her blood like a storm, wild and untamed and—

Dying.