One year later.
A small village hidden near the edge of the Loom's reach. Peaceful. Quiet. The kind of place fate forgets.
Luna lives here now.
She wakes up early every morning to tend to the garden she doesn't remember planting. The air smells like burnt cinnamon and wildflowers.
Children run past her gate. She smiles, waves, but her eyes always drift to the mountains beyond the forest.
Inside her cottage, there's a box on the shelf. She doesn't know who left it.
Inside:
A red thread tied into a loop.
A pressed white flower.
A note, unsigned:
"Love is not always remembered.
But it always remembers you."
She stares at the thread for minutes every day, feeling… something. A tug. A whisper. A ghost of warmth.
Sometimes, when the wind is just right, she swears she hears someone call her name.
Elsewhere...
Rae walks the forest trails, silent and alone.
He watches from a distance. Never interfering.
A letter he'll never send always tucked in his coat.
He smiles when she smiles. Cries when she cries.
His pen never stops writing. "Dear Luna…" over and over again.
In the realm between fate and flame…
Aelius stands guard before a new Loom.
The gods are gone. The threads now dance freely.
He sees her in his dreams.
Sometimes, he swears she sees him too.
But she never remembers.
Still, he waits.
Because love doesn't always end with memory.
Sometimes, it begins with it.
"The thread may forget the story… but the heart always remembers the pull."