The thread pulled them into yet another memory, darker and heavier than the last. This time, they stood in the weaver’s workshop, where the air crackled with an unfamiliar energy. Aria’s past self sat before her loom, her face streaked with tears. Her movements were frantic, weaving threads with a desperation that bordered on madness.
“I gave him everything,” she whispered, her voice trembling with pain. “And he gave me nothing in return.”
The threads on the loom began to shimmer and twist, their glow intensifying. The weaver’s heartbreak had become a catalyst, channeling her anguish into the threads themselves.
A shadowed figure appeared in the doorway, its presence both menacing and magnetic. Its voice was smooth, yet chilling. “Your pain is a powerful force,” it said. “Would you like to ensure he feels the weight of his choices for eternity?”
The weaver hesitated, her fingers pausing mid-weave. “What do you mean?”
The figure stepped closer, revealing glowing red eyes. “Bind his soul to yours. Let him live your pain, lifetime after lifetime, until the debt is repaid.”
Aria’s past self faltered, torn between love and bitterness. But her grief tipped the scales. “Do it,” she said, her voice cold.
The shadow extended a hand, and the threads flared brightly. In that moment, the curse was born.
Aria and Kieran were yanked back to the present, their breathing ragged. “It wasn’t love that bound us,” Aria whispered. “It was revenge.”
Kieran clenched his fists. “Then we need to break it.”