Court Of Tethers and Ruin *A dark fae fantasy- romance*

Chapter 1: Threads of destiny

Ayla watched as her mother gently caressed a long vibrant thread, the glittering golden lights reflecting off the palm of her hand as she weaved  the tendrils between her fingers. She watched as the strings pulled and knitted together completing a loop.

It was always hard focusing on one thread when so many others danced through the air, intertwining and bouncing off each other. Forming small branches as they collided, the tendrils wrapping around each other in soft caresses. In time Ayla had learned what each movement had meant, like unspoken songs  that whispers as she watched two strangers became acquaintances, and later friends and sometimes, when paths would bloom a brilliant shimmering gold, lovers.

Ayla reached out touching the thread, it was a whisper, like touching the wind, if the wind had a pulsing heart beat. She smiled closing her eyes and focusing on the pulse of life.

Her mother's voice broke her concentration. "What can you tell me about this thread?"

Ayla's eyebrows knitted together forming deep lines. She had always been a natural at seeing the threads but reading them was an entirely different skill. Her hand careful bunched around the end, watching the strings weave intricate knotting patterns.

She looked at Mrs Hale. A middle aged lady with a short grey bouncy coils and a soft, plump face. Who had sadly lost two babes before they could crawl out of their cradle. It was the hardest part of her job, when her neighbours and friends came to have their paths read but the forming stings burned and faded into a cold nothing. Her grey eyes wrinkled slightly at her own.

Ayla pressed her against Mrs Hale's belly feeling her breath press against the palm of her hand, watching as her eyes light up with hope and tears peaking at the corner of her eye. "Your baby will be strong." She felt the thrums of life pulse in her hand.

Mrs Hale's warm hand cradled her own as she stood slowly wrapping her arms around Ayla's neck.
Ayla felt the warmth of Mrs. Hales's embrace envelop her, a mixture of gratitude and fear trembling in the air between them. Mrs. Hales's voice was thick with emotion as she pulled back to gaze into Ayla's eyes, her grey ones shimmering with unshed tears. "Thank you, dear. You don't know how much this means to me."

Ayla nodded, the weight of the promise settling heavily in her heart. It was a gift to glimpse into the threads, to see the potential futures laid out like a tapestry before her. Yet, it was also a burden, a constant reminder of the fragility of life and the harsh truths that could lie just beneath the surface.

As she released her hold on the thread, the vibrant golden hue flickered, momentarily dimming before pulsing steadily once more. A shiver ran through her, as the very fabric of fate was unsettled. She turned her gaze back to Mrs. Hale, who now stood with a smile that crinkled her eyes and softened her plump cheeks

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself and your little one," Ayla urged, her voice steady but laced with urgency. "And don't let fear guide your heart."

Mrs. Hale nodded fervently, her smile unwavering. "I will, Ayla . Your words are my lantern in this darkness."

Ayla watched as Mrs Hale's rounded frame left her home, carefully shutting the wooden door after her. She felt her mother's hand gently touch her shoulders from behind, the back of her hand sweeping against her forehead drawing back beads of sweat.
"It gets easier." She tried to reassure her as she placed a cooling damp towel over her head.

Ayla took the towel, nodding in thanks. The gift was a blessing that took years to master but equally a curse that sapped the energy from you if you were not careful.

Ayla wondered if Amara had encountered the same issues. But she doubted that she did, she always remembered her eloquently parading around the towns square, the threads drawn to her presence enveloping her in soft golden hue. Her golden eyes were the brightest of her family and the threads called to her as if she had cast them with her own fingers. It had always made her feel a sense of jealousy when she was younger, watching as her sister was able to so gently coax to her. Now she was a pillar in her home that Ayla was compared to.