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The setting sun spilled over the quiet gardens flush with our home, and I reclined against the cool stonework at my back while

stretching my legs out before me. Damp grass wet the fabric of my clothes, but I didn’t mind. After depositing my apothecary

cases inside, I’d immediately come here, to my mother’s garden, to steady my nerves among the crocuses, daffodils, and rich

maroon tulips. Bees lazily hummed from bud to bud, and I didn’t flinch as one investigated the embroidered flower on my breast

to see if it was ripe with pollen. It moved on soon enough, and I let out a tired sigh.

Aunt Rowena was gone. That knowledge brought a hollowness to my chest I hadn’t anticipated, and I rubbed the space beneath

my collarbone. In the very least, I’d done what she asked. I’d kept myself hidden. If I couldn’t see her again, at least I

could live the life she wanted me to have. Even if it meant foraging for herbs until I was a crone.

We had enough food to make it until next week’s market, but that was it. I’d go back to the woods first thing in the morning to get a head start on replenishing my remedies. Maybe I’d unearth some morels I could use to barter with the butcher’s daughter. We’d enjoyed the pleasure of each other’s company a few times over, and I’d learned a thing or two about her tastes.

Still, I refused to make any sort of lasting connection. The townsfolk couldn’t be trusted with the truth of my identity.

Lost in my musings, I didn’t even register the town bell announcing the end of the miners’ shift. It wasn’t until I spotted

Noam and Nohr sluggishly trudging toward our door that I realized the dusky sky was moments away from fading to night, and

the droning hum of bees had long since been traded for the questioning chirps of crickets. Oil lampposts had been lit along

the cobblestone path leading from town, and they cast long shadows behind my brothers. Body stiff, I rose to meet them.

“Any everjewels today?” I asked as we approached our home.

Nohr shook his head. “Maybe next time.”

“And maybe I’ll find a pile of lost coin while foraging for herbs.” I thrust open the door and moved into the foyer, watching

as the boys kicked off their boots.

“There’s a dream.” Noam slipped off his gloves and shoved them into the back pocket of his trousers.

I sighed. “Well, at least tomorrow you have the day off.” My gaze roved across their grimy clothes and the thick layer of

dirt caked onto their skin. Grief still clouded their eyes and tugged at their lips. They’d hardly had a chance to mourn their

friend. “Go on, at least wipe some of that muck off. I’ll boil water for your baths.”

They nodded wordlessly as they lumbered up the stairs toward their shared bedroom, and while I was accustomed to their slumped

frames after a hard day’s work, I knew the weight pressing onto their shoulders had nothing to do with mining for gems.

I lit the stove and found the same pots they’d used to warm water for me. After filling them and placing them on the heat, I leaned against the kitchen counter and stared at the open window. With familiar ease, I retrieved my mother’s leather scrap from my pocket and rubbed it between my fingers. After Rowena was taken, we never spoke of the Ferngloves. It was as if Mother was too afraid to even mention them in case it summoned them to our doorstep yet again.

I’m safe. They don’t know. I squeezed my eyes shut as I pressed a light kiss to the leather. The flexible, textured surface was soft against my lips,

and I breathed in the familiar, earthy scent before slipping it back into my pocket and opening my eyes.

As I went to check the water, my brothers’ screams ricocheted through our house. I whirled in place as Nohr came rushing down

the stairs, Noam tumbling close behind. Noam was strangely off-balance, his gait wobbly, his body keeled over, his free hand

dangling loosely by his knee. His head lolled from side to side, and when I finally caught sight of his faraway gaze, I froze.

They were both shirtless as they’d prepared to bathe, which made it easy to spy the patchwork pattern of filth against their

skin. And the slender line of red just above Noam’s waistband.

A cut. Right where his shirt could’ve come untucked from his trousers during his work in the mines.

The curling edges of his wound were already shifting to a withering brown.

“No.” It was all I could manage as an incessant ringing filled my ears. Needles pricked against my skin as the world shifted

beneath my feet. It was too much. It couldn’t be. A swarm of black consumed my peripheral vision, narrowing my focus to him.

To that disastrous cut.

To the blight.

And then Nohr’s knees cracked against the floorboards as he fell, and I thought it was a reaction to the same realization

I’d just had. Except on his biceps I saw a long, puckered slice of red blooming with mold and yellow spores.

I screamed so loudly, so violently, that my head splintered in pain. I didn’t even remember crossing our home. One moment I was in the kitchen and the next I was on the floor, cradling them in my lap as nonsensical babbling flowed like undammed water from their lips. Tears bisected my cheeks in heavy streams, and I pressed them closer. Sobs racked my chest, and I focused everything I had on the dormant power coursing through my veins.

Please. Take me. Let them live. My whole body was doused in moonlight, and the threads of their lives unraveled before my eyes. Frayed. Drenched in vile

sludge. Petrifying into dust. An axe cleaved my heart, and I showered them with as much magic as I could muster.

Threads are fickle things. If you can’t coat them with your magic, you won’t be able to stitch them back together.

My aunt’s quiet words filled my mind. She’d whispered them so softly, almost fearfully, as she’d splayed her palms wide over

my mother’s shuddering chest. Her wet, ragged rasps were a sound I’d never forget, but my aunt had chased them away. She had

called on her power, doused her fingers in moonlight, and artfully moved them over my mother’s rib cage, restitching what

was broken.

I clung to my aunt’s quiet lesson as panic climbed up my throat. With every inhale, I centered my power and willed it to bolster.

To strengthen. And with every exhale, I focused on pushing more energy, more magic, to my brothers’ threads. I needed to chase

the blight away so that I could grip them tight and bring the frayed ends together again. If I could clear even a small portion

of the damning black sludge, then I had a chance. I could save them.

It didn’t work.

“Edira,” Noam managed, turning his teakwood gaze toward me. He had the same eyes as our father—both in hue and in the identical cloudy haze I’d witnessed before he’d died. My insides knotted, and I wished I could do that to their threads. I needed to stitch them together, to tie them in such a way that they’d never come undone.

“S’okay,” Nohr added, his hand weak against my thigh.

“No, it’s not,” I sobbed. I could’ve worked harder to keep them out of the mines, toiling away for elusive everjewels that

rarely surfaced. I could’ve done more. Guilt rippled through me and fluttered like a current through the white light surrounding us. I didn’t want to be alone.

No one else in town knew the truth about me. I could never be myself around anyone, not really. What was I supposed to do

without them? I needed them to survive so my existence had some purpose beyond secrets and death. I needed their smiles, their

jokes, their constant warmth. If they were going to go...

I wanted to paint myself in the tar destroying their lives and disintegrate into soft loam with them. What good was it to

be a threadmender if I couldn’t protect my own family? My fingers ached as I mindlessly pressed tighter against their trembling

bodies. The blight was everywhere, crawling over every thread, and my magic did absolutely nothing to stop its progression.

Another wail escaped my chest as I squeezed my eyes shut.

Pain had started to bloom through my limbs, and my vision blurred for entirely new reasons as the side effects of threadmending

settled into my bones. Heat flushed my skin, and a vile, brackish substance coursed over my tongue. If I kept up this outpouring

of power, it wouldn’t be long before I faded. My heart squirmed. I’d rather slip away with them than watch as they left this

world forever.

As I prepared myself to pull more of my magic to the surface, the front door banged open. The sound snared my focus, and my

gaze snapped to the man—the Ever—standing in the dim light of my foyer. Orin surveyed the room in a breath and froze.

“You’re a threadmender.”

I glowered at him from my place on the floor. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping to convince you of dessert or a stroll since you didn’t have time for tea...” His throat bobbed as his brows

drew sharply together. “They have blight.”

Absolutely asinine. I nearly laughed at the ludicrous notion of an evening walk with him , but instead I hugged my brothers tighter. A puff of yellow clouded around us as I accidentally ruptured some of the spores

now dotting their arms. Pain clawed at my skin, and a fresh wave of nausea roiled through me. Time was not on my side. Or

theirs.

“You should go.”

Something flashed in his hardened gaze. “I have magic that can slow the progression, but I can’t heal it.”

“I know.” I looked away to study the faces of my brothers. Their eyes had rolled to the backs of their heads and sweat dampened

their hairlines. Bubbling splotches of black mold had formed in the creases of their elbows, the lines of their stomachs.

They were rotting from the inside out.

“Work for me at Fernglove, and I’ll stave off the blight.” Orin stared not at my brothers but at me. A quiet sadness was etched

into his gaze along with something else. Concern? Compassion? It felt so foreign when even my neighbors struggled to offer

condolences each time my family faced loss. I was nothing to Orin, so why?

I swallowed thickly as I grappled with the grief rising in my throat. “I can’t cure blight. Prolonging their fate helps no

one.”

“But maybe you could, with the proper instruction,” he said, inching closer. “You don’t have to die here. I can help you harness

your power.”

Unease trickled across the back of my neck. The light of my magic wavered. I was a waning moon heading toward a starless night, and even if I didn’t drain every ounce of my power, I’d still find myself unconscious from the effort alone.

“Is that what you promised Rowena all those years ago?”

A flicker of surprise coursed through his expression, and his eyes widened. Understanding dawned in his gaze. “I remember

you. As I said earlier, she was my friend .” His voice dropped an octave as he lowered his gaze. “She was loved by all in my household. When I told her that we’d been

working with threadmenders for years to rid the earth of this horrendous disease, she decided to help. We’re close to finding

answers because of her.”

A lump formed in my throat, and I pressed my cheek against the crown of Noam’s head. Rowena had given up a large portion of

her life to save my mother from death. Who would I be if I didn’t risk everything for my brothers?

Orin nodded toward the alabaster glow framing my body. “Don’t expend yourself for no reason. Save your energy, your life threads.”

His words were so damn soft, his gaze too sorrowful. Slowly, he turned his stare to me. Pleading. He was pleading. Why? “Will

you work with me? Like she did?”

Keep dyeing your hair. Cure no one.

My heart pounded in my ears as I recalled my aunt’s warning. She couldn’t have known that my life—my brothers’ lives—would

come to this. And yet, despite Orin’s downturned lips and solemn eyes, I couldn’t fully trust him. What would Rowena have

done?

A flicker of gold pulled at my focus, and I watched as the beetle from earlier scuttled across the wooden rafters of my ceiling.

Despite everything, despite the warring, roiling emotions colliding in the pit of my belly, that tiny glimmer was like a spark

of hope. It wormed its way into the crevices of my mind, sprouting with the same ravenous appetite as the blight consuming

my brothers, the last part of my family.

When Orin drew nearer, my hold on Noam and Nohr loosened. “I can’t promise that you’ll be able to cure them, but don’t let them die without trying. I’ll encase them right now in magic, I swear it to you. It’ll control the spread of blight so you can let your own power go. Just say you’ll work with me.”

I was missing something. I had to be. Evers were master wordsmiths and rarely saw the raw end of a deal. I didn’t want to

end up like that tongueless traveling merchant, but what choice did I have? I knew I wasn’t strong enough. Already my limbs

were trembling, and sweat had dampened the collar of my blouse. I could keep going. Keep uselessly sacrificing my own threads,

or...

“Please, Edira,” Orin said. He reached for me but never actually made contact. He simply let his hand hang there, palm up

to the ceiling, as his fingers beckoned softly toward him. “Let me help you.”

Eternity passed in the span of seconds. Finally, I found my words. My resolve. “My brothers stay with me.”

A look of pure relief filled his expression. “Of course.”

“Then I agree.”

A sudden chill ravaged my skin as a weight separate from the blight settled into my bones. Power thrummed through the air

as the soft clink of a lock slipping into place filled my mind. Magic. I was bound to Orin’s words, to his contract, and there

was no escaping now.

The moment the vow solidified around us—invisible and yet somehow tangible, like metal links in a chain—Orin spread his arms wide. The ground trembled as thousands of minuscule green particles fell off his body in waves. The scent of the earth, of freshly bloomed flowers and pine trees and the rich aroma of soil, filled the room. And then he flicked his wrists, and the particles flew through the space to cocoon my brothers in magic. Power, heady and deep, rolled through the room. Orin had held true to his word, because once the magic had settled over Noam and Nohr, it solidified into a see-through casket and lifted them in the air.

Pain fled from my brothers’ expressions as they fell into a deep slumber, and the blight creeping up their bodies halted altogether.

Safe. A gasp escaped my lips at the same time I capped my own magic. Noam and Nohr were alive. For now. Tears fell down my

cheeks, and I felt my shoulders roll forward. I could save them. I could...

The aftermath of attempting to cure their blight—even to the smallest degree—hit hard and fast. Red-hot pain hammered into

my bones as total darkness began to fill my peripheral vision. Sleep. I needed to sleep.

“Don’t worry about your brothers.” Orin crouched down before me and clasped his hands together. “I’ll transport them immediately

to Fernglove and ensure the magic remains intact. A few of my family members came to town when I didn’t return home.” He glanced

over his shoulder at the open door, then turned his focus back to me. Concern tugged at his brow, and he inched closer. “Edira?”

The world tilted on its axis, and I toppled to the side. Before I could hit the floor, Orin was there. He cupped my head with

his hand and eased me down gently. Light fingers swept away the sweat-slicked locks clinging to my forehead.

“Rest. We’ll take care of everything else.” His words were muffled and distorted as sleep tugged at my senses. I didn’t know

what I’d find waiting for me at Fernglove Estate, but I prayed that when I woke, I’d have the strength to survive my new role

and eradicate the affliction that had robbed me of my family—and my future.

My head knocked against something firm as a loud thud pierced the fog in my brain. One by one, aches started to register, and I cataloged the sensations without opening my eyes. Clammy skin. A deep pounding behind my forehead. A throb that racked my very bones and worsened as another peculiar bump jostled my body. My thoughts drifted back slowly, and I steeled against the queasiness of my stomach with a forceful exhale. I’d made an agreement with an Ever. Not just any Ever, but Orin Fernglove.

My brothers. It was a whisper, an echo of a memory, and my eyes flew open. But instead of the comfort of my living room, I found myself

in the confines of a tufted carriage sitting opposite two young girls.

More Evers. Their dark hazel eyes were a stunning shade of hickory with flecks of clover green, and they perfectly complemented the tawny

beige tone of their skin. One had loose blond curls that tumbled in a wave to her waist, whereas the other’s hair was a deep

brown and stopped at her clavicle. They shared the same severe jutted chin and full lips, and neither one of them spoke. Evers

stopped aging in their mid-twenties, but these two couldn’t have been more than sixteen, possibly seventeen.

“My brothers?” My words scraped against my throat, and I swallowed dryly.

“They’re still alive,” the blonde said as she tilted her head. “I’m Amalyss Fernglove. This is Tasia.”

“Also a Fernglove,” she chimed in a breath after her relative. They certainly looked alike, down to the way they dressed.

Skintight sable pants with the reflective sheen of oil covered their long legs, and they each wore sleeveless blouses embroidered

with silver stitching—Amalyss’s in cobalt blue, Tasia’s in a rich eggplant.

“Where are they?”

“Already at the estate,” Tasia answered. “We’ve never had a threadmender bring their family before. That should be fun.” Tasia’s

grin was cruel, jerking up sharply at the corners to reveal too-bright teeth with canines honed to fine points.

Amalyss’s smirk matched Tasia’s. “True, and your brothers are quite handsome. Maybe we’ll get to keep them.”

I should’ve encouraged Noam to spend time with Lysa. Her parents were far less dangerous than the pair of wolves sitting across from me, cackling as they shared a dark, private humor I had no desire to comprehend. I might have been employed by their family, but I would not allow them to frighten me. Not visibly, anyway.

“My brothers aren’t playthings. Leave them out of whatever you’re thinking.” I glowered at them as I fought against the rising

irritation in my chest.

Amalyss’s and Tasia’s smiles only stretched wider toward their ears. Leaning forward, Amalyss pressed one elbow onto her knee

and cupped her chin with her hand. “You’ll be fun, too.”

We hit another bump in the road, and a wave of pain flared through my limbs, momentarily shifting my focus away from their

predatory remarks. I prayed we were close to their estate. I’d never been to Fernglove, but I’d heard from a few lucky elders

that it was several hours by carriage. I needed a bath and some balms... My shoulders sagged.

“I didn’t get a chance to gather my things.”

Tasia’s tinkling laugh was as unsettling as her grin. “We grabbed your remedies in case you needed them.”

“But nothing else,” Amalyss added. “No need to invite blight into our home.”

I couldn’t imagine how any traces of blight in my house would’ve posed a threat greater than what my brothers carried, but

I was just thankful Orin hadn’t balked at the idea of me bringing them along. Otherwise I would have no way of knowing if

Noam and Nohr were safe.

Or alive.

A rumbling gurgle rolled through my stomach, and both Amalyss and Tasia raised their brows in disdain. My hand pressed firmly against my belly, trying to quell the sound, but of course that did nothing other than alert me to the fact that my clothing had been changed. A dawning sense of frustration and anger thrummed beneath my fingers. One of these Evers had undressed me.

“My clothes?” I asked.

“As we said,” Tasia murmured, her voice silky and full of threat, “we didn’t need any extra blight in the house.”

“Not that you had any fun garments to pick from.” Amalyss’s lips pulled together in a childish pout. Then she beamed. “Maybe

he’ll let us make you more presentable.”

The absolute last thing I wanted was to be locked in a room with these two so they could dress me like a doll, curl my hair,

paint my face—I didn’t even know what Evers did to beautify themselves. Anything beyond their normal appearance hardly seemed

necessary. Their skin was flawless, their hair glossy and nourished. I’d never seen an Ever even appear to be ill. Between

their own brand of magic and their insistence on having a threadmender on hand, they remained forever timeless.

Absently, I dropped my hand to my pants in search of my mother’s leather scrap and froze. “What did you do with my blouse

and skirt?”

Tasia leaned indolently against the window and stared at the passing trees. “We burned them to keep the blight from spreading.”

Her nonchalance set fire to my bones, and I pressed my lips together to keep myself from screaming. I wanted to lunge across

the cabin and smack the bored look from her expression. I’d been stripped of everything. My family. My home. My brothers were

dying a slow, horrid death. I’d likely never see Willowfell again or the intricate flowered arch carved around our door. I

didn’t mind dying with the memory of those things, as I knew I couldn’t hold on to them forever. But my mother I’d wanted

to carry with me until the end. Until my magic gave out and I succumbed to death, saying goodbye to the short, cursed life

I’d lived as a threadmender.

And now that had been ripped from me, too.

“Oh, look, we’ve upset her.” Amalyss studied my face. And then she laughed. “You’re so easily wounded.”

Tasia shifted her focus back to me. “Imagine how she’ll react when we’re forced to burn her brothers, too.”

At that I snapped. I shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t help myself. I lunged toward her and cracked my palm against the soft

skin of her cheek. An angry red welt bloomed across her blemish-free skin. Wide-eyed, she stared at me for the span of three

breaths before reacting. And then she was on me, tackling me against the tufted bench to rake her pointed nails along the

exposed skin of my neck and arms with the fury of a savage cat. Amalyss shrieked wordlessly, joining the hissing mess of limbs

and fangs as we clawed at one another. I didn’t know what I wanted to accomplish, just that the act of simply forgetting everything—the

devastating sight of Noam and Nohr withering beneath my touch, the deal with Orin, the loss of my home—and giving in to anger

was something akin to bliss. They ripped into my skin, slapped, bit, kicked, punched, until we tumbled into the door, and

it sprung open, depositing us onto uneven ground.

The force of the hit thrust us apart as the carriage stopped, and I sprawled on my back to stare up at the dusk sky. The ground

beneath my shoulders was uneven and damp, and the scent of wet dirt filled my nose. But before I could process anything else,

Amalyss and Tasia pinned me in place. They jammed their knees into my shoulders, and a sharp cry scraped my throat as tears

pricked my eyes.

Tasia lowered her face to mine, her pointed teeth barred and glistening. “Don’t forget who you work for.”

“Orin isn’t the only one with power,” Amalyss said. A surge of magic seemed to flow from the earth itself straight into their bodies, and their eyes glowed with the nocturnal sheen of wild animals. Everything about their features sharpened. Luminous feathers, like those of a hummingbird, pushed through their skin to line their cheekbones and temples, and Amalyss parted her lips to give her quickly elongating fangs extra room. The hairs on my neck stood on end as a crackling, electric sensation rippled over me.

“You need me,” I sneered, ignoring the arcing pain lancing through my arms and the fear threading through my gut.

“You’re wrong.” Tasia’s smile was a warning. “We could find another like you.”

Before I could come up with some witty response, two strong hands drove into the collars of their blouses. They were yanked

away in one fell swoop and tossed to the side with the ease of empty sacks. Still, Amalyss and Tasia were on their feet almost

as soon as their backs cracked into the earth, and they rounded on the man standing over me.

“We were just playing,” Amalyss whined. I was struck by the sudden childish tone to her voice, as if this had all been some

minor misunderstanding that deserved nothing more than a slap on the wrist. The heady magic rolling off their bodies dissipated,

along with the pregnant, suffocating swell of static.

“Besides, she started it,” Tasia added.

“And I’m finishing it. Take the carriage back to the stalls, now ,” he said. He didn’t bother glancing my direction, but that didn’t mean I could drag my gaze away from him.

For fuck’s sake. Textured, russet-colored hair fell across his forehead, teasing the tops of thick, angular brows in the same shade. Onyx

dermal piercings, two above his left brow, stood out against his skin. He had a broad nose and wide, full lips that were downturned

slightly at the corners, and I couldn’t help but wonder what they looked like when he smiled. The amber hue of his eyes was

closer to gold, but there was nothing warm about his expression. If anything, he seemed bored.

“Why? You were doing a fine job driving us.” Tasia placed her hands on her hips.

The man took one step toward her, and she cowered. “Because you both just landed stall duty.”

Tasia’s mouth fell open. “Rorik, that’s not fair!”

“We never clean stalls. We have farmhands for that,” Amalyss practically begged.

“Now,” he growled, gesturing to the carriage. I glanced past his hand to see the glossy black cabin was being drawn by two

stags with ivy-laden antlers, glowing pale eyes, and mossy coats dotted with flowers. They exhaled forcefully, and mist curled

upward from their wet nostrils.

Amalyss and Tasia turned on their heels, their gaits violent and rough. The carriage shuddered as they slammed the door closed

and climbed up together to nestle onto the driver’s seat. Once Tasia gripped the reins, Rorik sucked his teeth in a soft sound

that spurred the stags back into motion.

“Are you going to get up?” He didn’t offer his hand, instead opting to fold his arms across his chest as he finally looked

at me. The action pulled his slate-gray shirt tight against his frame, and I trailed the line of his corded neck up to his

clenched jaw.

“Yeah.” I pulled myself to my feet, eyeing the retreating carriage as it followed a bend in the dirt road. “Thanks for that.”

“You’d do well to avoid them.” He turned without waiting to see if I’d follow and strolled down the path with languid ease.

I hurried to keep pace, each of his long strides eating up the same distance as two of my own.

“I highly doubt that’s possible,” I muttered. The evening sky was quickly fading from lilac to indigo, and the long shadows

of tall pines and spruce trees were already intermingling to shade the earth. A cool breeze rustled the underbrush and fallen

leaves, and I rubbed my hands along my arms to spark warmth.

“Even so,” Rorik said, bringing my focus back to him as we followed the same bend as the carriage, “avoid everyone from this family if you can.” A muscle strained against his neck, but he kept his voice and gaze level.

I couldn’t help but scoff. “You do know why I’m here, right?”

He paused and gave me the full weight of his molten stare. Then he grimaced. “You’re here to fail at curing blight and then

die. Only the gods know how long that will take.”

I stumbled to a halt, frozen by his words. He regarded me for a long moment, searching for something—a weakness—and then he

pursed his lips. Straightening his back, he jerked his thumb in the direction of the worn road.

“We’re here.”

Shifting so I could see around his broad frame, I gasped. Acres of gently rolling hills spread out toward the horizon, and

the massive clearing was framed by a forest of densely packed trees. Fernglove Estate was the epicenter of it all, sitting

proudly on a flattened portion of land. Manicured lawns stretched from the first building to where I stood, along with artfully

trimmed hedges and an array of flower beds. I counted at least three structures immediately, though the primary residence

held all my attention.

A river of babbling water wound from the woods to cross before the manor, and a solitary bridge of powder-green stone, wide

enough for two carriages to pass side by side, connected the road to an open courtyard. The front of the manor was dominated

by a pointed arch, and the pitched roof was trimmed in off-white wood. Limestone a shade lighter than that of the bridge made

up the brick masonry of the sprawling establishment, and I lost count of the curved windows lighting up as the sky darkened.

It was breathtaking in its splendor but horrifying in its solitude. For despite its size, I struggled to find a single soul traversing the grounds. Everything was eerily quiet, save the soft chirping of insects welcoming the night. Unease crept through my veins. I wanted to blame it on the late hour, but I knew it was something else. I knew it like I knew my fate was a speeding course toward death that could not be altered.

Whispers of illness skirted through the air on the evening breeze, bringing a chill to my bones. Every Fernglove I’d encountered

thus far was healthy and vibrant, a stark contrast to the suffocating presence of wrong that seemed to bloom from the near-silent

estate. I couldn’t see Death, but I could feel him. There were broken threads here, and my magic hummed in recognition.

“How many threadmenders have been here before?” I asked quietly, gaze locked on the looming mansion.

“Too many.” Rorik’s lips twitched as his stare hardened.

And they were all gone. Anger wormed through me, and I fisted my hands by my sides. “Of course. Gods forbid you face even

the smallest ailment on your own.”

At that, he laughed. “As if small ailments could bother us.” He watched me closely for a moment, and then he strolled away.

Without looking back, he spoke over his shoulder. “Welcome to Fernglove, Edira. May you live to see something else.”