Faelan Mythweaver's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Faelan slipped behind a pillar of the stone church and listened. Three down, four to go before the year turned. The devout woman knelt at the rail, her stone amulet clutched tight. He had studied her prayers for weeks and found no crack. Tonight he only needed a whisper. She gave him more. Her voice broke as she confessed a small, ugly thing — a jealousy, a lie told to her sisters. Faelan's pulse jumped. Here was the angle. He could meet her at the outdoor altar tomorrow, pretend the same sin, and watch her open like a door. He walked out into the dark instead. The mossy altar waited under stars, its old symbols dim. He stood there a long time, turning the plan over. Using the confession meant becoming the one person she could never trust again — the only person who knew. Faelan chose the angle. He would use it. But standing by the cold stone, he understood the cost before he paid it: he would win her, and she would never ask him to stay.