Where the Blood Lies

Previously

…The house was silent again, but it was a different kind of silence now. Not the oppressive silence of death, but the quiet aftermath of a storm. The Weaver was gone. For now. But the truth, the terrible, beautiful truth my mother had left behind, remained. The debt was acknowledged. The cycle was broken, not by violence, but by understanding. The price of truth had been paid, and I was the one who had paid it. The scars would remain, etched deep within my soul, but for the first time since I woke up in that empty house, I felt a flicker of peace. The fight was over. The weaving was undone. And I, Elara Vance, was finally free.