The morning of Kaela's eighteenth birthday dawned with a sky that was fraying at the edges.
She stood on the cliffs above the harbor, watching the sun rise over Cinderhall. The city was magnificent. Spires of white stone and crystal reached toward the heavens like prayers made manifest. Gardens bloomed on every terrace, cascading with flowers that seemed to glow with their own inner light. The streets were filled with people from every corner of the realm, their faces bright with hope and purpose.
But Kaela saw something else.
The threads were unraveling. Not the great threads of the weave. Not the golden threads of balance. But the smaller threads. The threads that connected individual lives. The threads that held communities together. The threads that made people who they were.
The s
