Antoinette kight sarcy book

Previously

…Her mother’s knitting was more than just a hobby; it was a language, a prophecy, a silent commentary on the unfolding chaos. And somewhere within its woolly pronouncements, Antoinette suspected, lay the key to understanding this too-perfect Sacry. As she walked towards the sunroom door, she glanced back. Her mother was absorbed in her knitting, the needles clacking a steady, unwavering beat. But for a fleeting moment, Antoinette thought she saw a faint, almost mischievous glint in her mother’s eyes, as if she knew far more than she was letting on. And that, in itself, was a thread worth pulling.