Chapter 2: Threads of the Past
Back at her grandmother’s cottage, Eira’s hands shook as she poured the hot
water over dried chamomile. The steam curled toward the ceiling, vanishing into
the air. Her grandmother’s eyes followed her every move, sharp as a hawk’s.
“What did you see, girl?” Grandmother’s voice was rough from years of breathing
in hearth smoke, but it cut through Eira’s thoughts like a blade.
Eira’s hands stilled. She’d known this moment would come. “A man,” she said
finally, her voice hollow. “Or something wearing a man’s shape.” She glanced at
her grandmother’s face, searching for any flicker of disbelief. There was none.
The old woman’s lips pressed into a thin line. Her knotted fingers drummed once
on the table. “Did it speak?”
Eira nodded. “It said the Veil was thinner today. And that something was waiting
for me.”
Her grandmother’s face went pale, a stark contrast to the deep brown of her
weathered skin. Her eyes darted to the window, where gray clouds hung low in
the sky. “Foolish girl,” she muttered, shaking her head. “I warned you not to stray
too deep.”
“I didn’t!” Eira’s voice rose with sudden frustration. “I stayed on the path, just
like you said. He was already there, watching me like he’d been waiting.”
Her grandmother’s gaze darkened. “Then it’s already begun.”
“What’s begun?” Eira’s voice wavered, her fear returning with a vengeance. “Tell
me, Grandmother.”
But the old woman didn’t answer. She rose from her chair with surprising
swiftness, moving toward the wall of shelves. Her fingers traced the spines of old
books, worn leather-bound tomes with no titles. She plucked one free and flipped
through its yellowed pages with a practiced hand. Her eyes scanned the words
as if seeking something she’d hoped never to find.
When she found it, she slammed the book shut, her eyes meeting Eira’s with a
fierce intensity. “You’ve seen him now, child. That’s all it takes. Once they’ve
seen you and you’ve seen them, the Veil remembers.”
“What do you mean?” Eira’s voice was barely above a whisper.
Her grandmother’s eyes softened, but the fear did not leave them. “It means
you’re marked, girl. The Veil’s marked you. And once marked, there’s no turning
back.”
Eira’s breath hitched in her chest. “So what do I do?”
Her grandmother’s eyes narrowed. “You learn.” She pushed the book toward Eira,
its cracked leather cover rough against her fingers. “And you prepare. Because
when the Veil comes calling, it doesn’t knock twice.”