The sun hadn't risen yet, but the garden shimmered like a field of broken stars. Dew clung to every blade of grass, every petal, catching the moonlight and fracturing it into a thousand gleaming shards. Evelyne stood still, barefoot on the marble path, feeling the cold bite of morning and the weight of decision pressing against her collarbone.
Alaira's footsteps were soft behind her. "You haven't slept."
Evelyne didn't turn. "Couldn't. The stars won't stop whispering."
A pause. "The stars, or your thoughts?"
She smiled faintly, eyes on the horizon. "Both. They sound the same now."
Alaira stepped beside her, her cloak billowing softly in the breeze. "You changed something again yesterday."
Evelyne said nothing, but the silence was answer enough.
Alaira sighed, folding her arms. "The timeline is more fragile than it was last week. I felt the rupture ripple while I was in the Hall of Echoes. The Lady of Thread flinched."
Evelyne's brow furrowed. "I didn't mean to. I only— I stopped the duel between Elian and Varric. The original chapter had Varric wounded, disgraced. I couldn't let it happen again."
"You saved Varric… but stole Elian's choice to act. The thread frayed because he was meant to make that mistake."
"So what? I should've let him bleed out just to keep fate tidy?" Her voice was low, angry, and aching.
Alaira looked at her, sharp but not cruel. "I'm not telling you to do nothing. I'm telling you to be careful. The more you bend, the more the world resists."
Evelyne ran a hand through her hair, suddenly tired. "I only have four days left. Four. I've barely untied half the knots that lead to my death."
"And every knot you pull tightens another," Alaira murmured.
They stood there in silence, the wind teasing the edge of dawn.
Finally, Evelyne asked, "Do you believe I'll make it?"
Alaira didn't answer right away. Instead, she pulled something from her satchel—a folded parchment, worn and scorched at the edges. She handed it to Evelyne.
Evelyne unfolded it carefully. It was a map… but not of any kingdom she recognized. The lines were fluid, drifting. Names shimmered and shifted in ink that moved when she blinked.
"This is the Threadweaver's Map," Alaira said. "It shows the timeline from your point of origin to now. Every dot is a branch. Every red slash…" She hesitated. "Every red slash is a failed iteration."
Evelyne's breath caught.
There were dozens of red slashes.
"Wait. These—these are all—"
"Versions of you," Alaira said quietly. "Versions that died before reaching Day 30. This map… I stole it from the Archive. They were going to reset the world again."
"Reset?" Evelyne whispered.
"They've done it before. Hundreds of times. You're not the first Villainess who's tried to escape her fate. But you might be the first to get this far."
The parchment trembled in her hands. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Alaira's gaze softened. "Because I didn't want you to give up. And because this time—this version—feels… different."
Evelyne looked up at her, emotions warring inside her. "Different how?"
Alaira stepped closer, slowly, like approaching a wounded animal. "Because you're not just reacting. You're changing things out of hope, not fear. And that makes all the difference."
There was a beat of silence. The kind that hangs heavy with meaning.
Evelyne's fingers curled around the edge of the parchment. "What happens if I make it to Day 30?"
Alaira hesitated. "That depends on your final choice."
"My… choice?"
"You'll be given three. One of survival. One of love. One of oblivion."
A chill ran through Evelyne's spine. "And if I choose wrong?"
"The world rewrites. And you vanish—completely. No records, no memory. Not even I would remember you."
Evelyne looked down at the map, at the red slashes, and whispered, "How many of them chose oblivion?"
"I don't know," Alaira admitted. "But I know you won't."
She turned toward her, face unreadable. "Why are you so sure?"
Alaira didn't smile, not exactly. But her eyes held something brighter than certainty. "Because I'd remember you even if the world didn't. Somewhere in my bones, I would know."
That silence again—different now. Charged.
The moon dipped behind clouds, and the sky began to turn.
"I think I'm falling in love with you," Evelyne said softly.
Alaira blinked, once. Then twice.
Then she smiled, real and raw. "About time."
The air between them felt fragile and burning, like glass kissed by fire.
But neither of them moved.
Not yet.