The stale air of Willow Creek Manor tasted like dust and defeat as Dallas stalked towards the main entrance. Lydia's ultimatum – condemn one Ember or erase both – echoed in his skull, a poisonous mantra.
Neither. The words, spat in defiance. Yet, the image of the seamstress, Ember Hall, bent over her work in Enchantante Fabrics, oblivious to her ephemeral existence, burned brighter than any spell-fire. He couldn't let her fade like smoke. He couldn't let the future Ember be sacrificed again. There had to be another thread to pull, another player on Lydia's cursed board.
His mind scrabbled through the series of decades. Who knew Lydia's secrets? Who operated outside her immediate circle of power? A name surfaced, fragile but persistent: Hattie. His mother's cousin.
