The alley was quiet again.
The scorch marks were still there — reminders of the firestrike — but the gang hadn't returned. No one dared.
Leia sat on the edge of the mat in the shed, the Cloak of Hold draped beside her like a silent companion. A thread ran between her fingers, but she wasn't sewing.
She was remembering.
The heat. The crowd. The silence after the fire cleared.
That moment when she didn't fall.
She looked down at her wrist.
The mark there — the needle and thread — pulsed gently. Warmer than before. A rhythm like breath.
She could feel it.
The connection.
Her cloak was more than cloth. More than defense.
It was a declaration.
A beginning.
---
Selene entered, quiet as always, carrying a small bowl of crushed herbs.
"Let me see your hands," she said, kneeling beside her daughter.
Leia hesitated, then held them out.
Raw fingertips. Burned knuckles. Tiny needle punctures dotting the skin.
Selene smiled softly, wrapping them in damp linen.
"Your father had a sword. Your siblings have light, flame, frost. But you…" She glanced at the folded cloak.
"You made something no one else could."
Leia blinked slowly. "I don't know what happens next."
Selene smoothed her daughter's hair, eyes glistening. "You become what they never expected."
---
Later that evening, Leia hung the cloak on a nail beside her mat. Not hidden. Not folded.
Displayed.
The weighted hem caught the candlelight.
The shoulder rune, now a little deeper in color, shimmered once and stilled.
Her hand brushed the symbol.
And she whispered, barely above a breath:
> "They'll remember this one."
---
Unbeknownst to her, a boy crouched by the broken window again.
Same as before. Wide-eyed. Silent.
He whispered back to the shadows:
> "The thread witch… she doesn't break."
---
In the far distance, across rooftops and chimneys, a dozen small messages were carried by wind and whisper.
Sewing girl.
The fire didn't stop her.
She's real.
And strong.
And rising.
---
📜 Message to You, the Reader:
Thank you for walking with Leia this far.
The journey of Threadbound: Rise of the Seamstress is just beginning.
This is the end of Arc 1 — the exile, the struggle, the awakening.
From a bruised girl with threadbare dreams to a weaver of protection and quiet power… Leia has only just started to stitch her name into the world.
If you've ever felt underestimated, unseen, or small — this is your story too.
🧵 With every thread, she rises.
Thank you for reading.
— Syntaxx