Hand over fist she pulled. Every inch was a war, and every war lasted an age, but slowly the thread returned to her, bit by bit.
The vale-thread spooled around her heart, soothing the ache that throbbed there. Keriya kept pulling, for it stretched on and on into the night. The color and quality of it gradually faded, and it became a pearly change-thread.
She had forgotten Arisse’s words, words that had once made her feel strong. She had forgotten the good things in her life. Not only that, she had been blind to the possibility of new good things around her. How horrible she had been in her weakness, her darkness.
The thread began thrashing, trying to break from her grip, but Keriya refused to let go.
I am more than the sum of my mistakes.
She could change. She could be better. She pul
