She didn't know how long she sat there, staring at the crystal. It flickered with images-her mother's face, the Citadel's mirrors, Kaelen's silver eyes. But beneath it all, there was something else.
A voice.
Not Kaelen's.
Not hers.
Something older.
"You are the fracture. The thread that never wove. The blade that cuts both ways."
Seren flinched. The crystal dimmed.
She shoved it into her satchel and stood.
She needed answers. And there was only one place left to look.
Thornmere.
The forest of witches was restless.
As Seren stepped beneath its twisted canopy, the Drift hit her like a wave-grief, rage, longing. Emotion magic saturated the air, clinging to her skin like mist. The trees whispered her name, their branches twitching as if reaching for her.
She walked quickly, boots crunching over frost-laced leaves. The witches wouldn't welcome her. Not after what she'd done. Not after breaking the Moonbound Pact.
But she wasn't here for welcome.
She was here for truth.
The heart of Thornmere was a clearing surrounded by stone monoliths, each etched with runes that shimmered with emotion. At its center stood a figure cloaked in violet robes, her hair a cascade of silver vines.
High Witch Elira.
Seren stepped into the clearing.
Elira turned slowly. "You return."
"I need answers."
"You seek what you already carry."
Seren pulled the crystal from her satchel. "Kaelen gave me this."
Elira's eyes narrowed. "Then the Maw has opened."
Seren nodded. "He said we're vessels. That Umbros lives inside us."
Elira stepped forward. "Not lives. Waits."
The witches gathered around, silent, watching.
Elira gestured to the monoliths. "These stones hold the emotions of every Threadless soul who ever lived. They speak of pain. Of exile. Of power."
Seren looked at the nearest stone. It shimmered with grief.
Elira touched it. "Your mother came here once. Before the eclipse. She begged us to sever your threads."
Seren's breath caught. "Why?"
"To protect you. To hide you from Umbros."
"She failed."
Elira's gaze was sharp. "Or she succeeded too well."
The crystal pulsed.
Elira stepped back. "It's awakening."
Seren held it tightly. "What do I do?"
"You choose," Elira said. "You can bury it. Seal it. Forget it."
Seren shook her head. "Or?"
"Or you can wield it."
The witches gasped.
Elira raised a hand. "The crystal is a shard of the Hollow Moon. It holds the memory of Umbros. To wield it is to risk becoming him."
Seren stared at the crystal. "Then I need to understand him."
Elira hesitated. "There is one who remembers."
"Who?"
"The Dreambinder."
The name echoed through the clearing like a curse.
Elira turned to the witches. "Prepare the ritual."
Seren stepped forward. "What ritual?"
"To enter the Threadless Dream."
That night, beneath the bleeding moon, Seren lay in a circle of runes, surrounded by witches chanting in the language of emotion. The crystal rested on her chest, glowing softly.
Elira knelt beside her. "You will see what Umbros saw. Feel what he felt. But beware-dreams are truths wrapped in lies."
Seren nodded.
The chanting rose.
The world faded.
And the dream began.
She stood in a city of mirrors.
The sky was black. The streets shimmered. And every reflection showed a different version of herself-angry, broken, powerful, monstrous.
A figure approached.
Tall.
Cloaked.
Eyes like hers.
Umbros.
He didn't speak.
He simply raised a hand.
The mirrors shattered.
And Seren screamed.
She woke with a gasp, the crystal burning against her skin.
Elira was gone.
The witches were gone.
And the forest was silent.
She sat up slowly, heart pounding.
The dream had shown her something. Not just Umbros. Not just Kaelen.
Herself.
What she could become.
What she might already be.
She stood.
The Hollow Moon pulsed.
And far beneath the Vale, something laughed.