The weaving room was thick with the scent of lavender and the hum of Sora’s focused energy. Rhiannon stood on a low wooden stool, her arms held out like a bird’s as Sora pinned the final folds of a garment that felt less like clothes and more like a second skin.
"It’s too much," Rhiannon whispered, staring at her reflection in the polished bronze mirror.
The gown was a masterpiece of defiance. Sora had woven enchanted spider-silk- dark as a moonless night, with threads of silver wolf-fur that shimmered whenever Rhiannon breathed. It clung to her curves, the sleeveless bodice leaving her arms and the tops of her shoulders bare, while the skirt flowed behind her like a trail of liquid smoke. It didn't hide her; it announced her.
"It’s exactly enough," Sora countered as she adjusted th
