Chapter 12 – The Threads Beneath the Flame

Lanterns flickered low as Selene moved without escort through the sleeping wing of Valencrest. Her robes were plain, her brooch hidden. No guards. No titles. Just the names of those she remembered.

She knocked gently on a wooden door—old, weather-warped, bearing the faded sigil of House Thorne.

An elderly woman opened it, eyes cautious until they widened in disbelief.

"You remember me?"

Selene nodded. "I remember everyone they told me to forget."

Inside, she poured tea for the woman with trembling hands. Their talk was soft, private. No alliances declared, but a spark kindled.

By morning, she'd visited five more such souls. None powerful alone. But together? Memory was a revolution in the making.

Below, in the Archives

Iris ran a finger along the edge of the sealed wall. "There's a hinge," she whispered. "Help me."

Aro pressed beside her, shoulder to shoulder. With a heavy click, the wall shifted inward, revealing a spiral stair slick with moss.

They descended by torchlight. The air grew thick with forgotten age.

Stone gave way to carvings. A massive mural loomed: a fox, golden-eyed, shattering a loom of constellations. Beneath its paws, threads unraveled into symbols neither could read.

Suddenly, Aro staggered.

His breath caught. The torchlight dimmed.

A fragment of another life flickered behind his eyes—a battlefield, a name screamed through smoke… and someone calling him back.

He steadied himself.

"I knew this place," he said, voice low.

Iris touched the wall, eyes reflecting the flickering rune.

"Or maybe… it knew you."

Elsewhere, Unseen

A noble received a letter in his study—addressed by no hand, sealed by no wax. He opened it, blinked, and by the time he looked up, the words were gone.

Still, he stood and made his way toward the Council chamber, heart shifted.

In another wing, a scribe reached for her ink, only to find her transcript had already been corrected… to a version she had never written.

A whisper fluttered past the stained glass, unheard:

"The Threadwright walks."

At Dawn

The Council reconvened. Baron Thaddeus spoke first—but softer. Lord Anselm of the Western Watch wore a new pin, the crest of House Thorne beside his own. Nobles glanced, wary. Lines had moved.

Selene entered last. No fanfare. Only presence.

Her eyes met Aro's.

Iris nodded once from the gallery.

No words were exchanged, but something beneath them pulsed.

Far Below

The fox mural flared—gold washing over its painted fur, ember-like. The stars in the loom crackled, and for a moment, the entire chamber warmed.

In a whisper only the stone heard:

"Some threads burn brighter when no one sees them."