The next day, the sky hung heavy and gray. I dropped off the revised manuscript of Spear and Fallen Crown at the Scribe's Hall. On my way back, I paused at the sight of the golden-roofed Dreamweaver Pavilion. A year ago, when it first opened in Sylvoth Town, everyone swore it could make wishes come true. Desperate to mend things with my parents and Theodore, I'd left my hopes there. After a moment's hesitation, I stepped inside.
The monk recognized me and retrieved a faded prayer pouch from behind the altar. Inside were two yellowed slips of paper, scented with incense, bearing my old wishes. One: to reconcile with my parents, to bask in their love again. Two: for Theodore to see my worth, to love me, no matter how long it took.
My eyes stung as I read them. The monk saw the pain in my g
