Now that the Spinnermaid left for her eternal sleep, the fog around the Vale of Unfinished Rites slowly disappeared. In its place was a valley that sincerely felt soft and gentle.
There was no blinding light and no memory collapse. The mist slowly thinned out until the trees around them were real again, and the wind no longer whispered words it did not own.
Lucian walked ahead, his Echoheart Grimoire completely silent. It hadn't grown dormant--it was waiting. Something about their connection was different now, like the book could feel him back.
His thumb ran over the portable Grief Loom the Spinnermaid had given him. As if responding to his thoughts, the Loom was suddenly wrapped in an equally small wooden case with a thorn-silver clasp. It pulsed faintly in his hand with magic--warm, like using a power bank.
Lucian hadn't tried it yet, and the others didn't press him.
