The Looming Return

"You've both seen what he can do."

"And he might come back stronger," the envoy murmured, brows knit in thought. "Or worse, not come back at all, leaving the Tapestry in permanent disarray."

"No," Lorik said sharply, though his voice was frail. "The Tapestry wouldn't let one of its key threads vanish so easily, especially if that thread has begun to rewrite itself." He glanced at the rift, the faint arcs of leftover magic still sparking like wounded lightning across the courtyard. "Not after that display."

A hush fell, each faction weighed down by the knowledge that Draven's fate—and thus their own—was far from certain. The Council members wanted control, the Gravekeepers wanted to preserve or manipulate destiny, and Lorik just wanted the Tapestry not to unravel entirely. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, as though afraid to disturb this fragile equilibrium.