The woman standing beside the well stared at Elira without blinking. Her face was familiar, yet impossible. Elira had seen that face in memories, in old drawings, and in the visions created by the curse. It belonged to Nerissa, the seamstress who had supposedly sacrificed herself when the original curse was sealed.
"Nerissa," Elira whispered.
The woman smiled sadly. "You remember."
Maelin stepped forward, trembling. "That's impossible. We watched you disappear."
"I disappeared from your world," Nerissa replied. "I never disappeared from the curse."
Varrek moved closer to Elira. Their shoulders touched, and she could feel the steady warmth of his presence. Somehow, knowing he stood beside her made the impossible easier to face.
Nerissa noticed.
"So," she said softly, "you found someone who makes you brave."
Elira glanced at Varrek.
"He does."
Varrek looked surprised, and a faint smile appeared on his face.
Nerissa's expression softened. "Then perhaps there is still hope."
Suddenly, the masked seamstresses surrounding her raised their hands. Black threads shot across the village, wrapping around buildings and blocking every escape.
Kaelra pulled her hooks free. "I knew the reunion wouldn't stay pleasant."
The masked figures attacked.
Varrek immediately stepped in front of Elira, deflecting a strand that flew toward her. Elira grabbed his arm and pulled him aside as another thread sliced through the air.
"Stop protecting me from everything," she said.
"I'm trying."
"I can fight."
"I know."
"Then trust me."
Varrek looked directly into her eyes.
"I do."
Those two words gave Elira more courage than any spell.
She raised the ash thread.
"Together."
Varrek nodded.
They moved as one.
He distracted the masked seamstresses while Elira broke their patterns. Whenever a thread reached for her, Varrek was there. Whenever Varrek became surrounded, Elira tore open a path. Their movements gradually became effortless, almost like a dance they had practiced for years.
Miro watched from behind a wall.
"They're definitely in love," he whispered.
Lysa elbowed him.
"Quiet."
"I'm just observing."
"You're terrible at observing quietly."
Across the village, Bren and Kaelra fought to protect the others while Seredin and Caldra searched the houses for trapped villagers. Daren carried injured people toward the edge of the village, refusing to stop despite the growing danger.
Then Nerissa screamed.
The ground beneath the well split open.
A massive wave of black thread erupted from the earth, swallowing the masked seamstresses and throwing everyone backward.
Elira fell.
Varrek caught her before she struck the ground.
For a moment, neither moved.
"Are you hurt?" he whispered.
"No."
His arms remained around her.
"Elira…"
"Yes?"
"If we survive this, I want to tell you something."
She smiled faintly. "You could tell me now."
"I'm afraid I'll lose the courage."
"You're facing a cursed army."
"That is easier."
She laughed softly.
Then the ground shook again.
Elira placed her hand against his chest.
"Then survive."
"I will."
"And come back to me."
Varrek's eyes softened.
"I promise."
They separated reluctantly.
At the center of the village, Nerissa stood before the broken well, surrounded by swirling darkness.
"You cannot defeat it with weapons," she warned.
Elira tightened her grip on the ash thread.
"We aren't going to defeat it with weapons."
Varrek stood beside her.
"We're going to break it together."
Nerissa smiled.
"Then you finally understand."
The black threads rose toward the moon.
And for the first time, Elira realized the curse was not only fighting for control.
It was afraid of love.
Because love created memories that refused to be erased.