"So is he a friend now?" Alice asked, looking at the Loom. Lucian followed his thread for a bit and saw snapshots of Elian in Candlemere.
"Maybe? I don't feel any anger from him. Just a sense of clarity."
Alice nodded. "As long as we don't end up in a fight. I don't want anything to happen to Gethra's books."
Privately, Lucian agreed. It was full of important information, but also--he was getting tired of running. Having somewhere to rest for more than a week felt nice.
+
The next day, Lucian's fingers were blistered. It wasn't from fire or frost, but from resistance. The Grief Loom refused to accept his glyph attempt for the sixth time that morning.
He frowned as the thread snapped once more.
Alice sat on the other side of the rock table, watching with wide, cautious eyes.
"You're getting worse," she said—not unkindly, but with honest concern.
