Aveline 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 Aveline 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.
Aveline 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?"
Aveline'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 Pox. 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 they burned and faded into a cold nothing. Her grey eyes wrinkled slightly at her own.
Aveline pressed her against Mrs Pox 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 Pox's warm hand cradled her own as she stood slowly wrapping her arms around Aveline'a neck.
Aveline felt the warmth of Mrs. Pox's embrace envelop her, a mixture of gratitude and fear trembling in the air between them. Mrs. Pox's voice was thick with emotion as she pulled back to gaze into Aveline's eyes, her grey ones shimmering with unshed tears. "Thank you, dear. You don't know how much this means to me."
Aveline 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 once more. A shiver ran through her, as the very fabric of fate was unsettled. She turned her gaze back to Mrs. Pox, 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," Aveline urged, her voice steady but laced with urgency. "And don't let fear guide your heart."
Mrs. Pox nodded fervently, her smile unwavering. "I will, Aveline. Your words are my lantern in this darkness."
Aveline watched as Mrs pox 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.
Aveline 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.
Aveline 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 Aveline was compared to.
YOU ARE READING
These threads that bind and tear *A dark fae fantasy- romance*
Fantasy"My mother once warned me that the fae are closer to gods than to men, stirring from their slumber and leaving chaos in their wake." Once a millennia the moon cracks sending ripples of energy and fragments to earth. Each fragment holds a small piece...
