A multitude of sensations flooded Kael once again.

  Less intense than the first time, yet still violent enough to shake him.

  He still had no physical form.

  Only a disembodied gaze suspended in the void, watching images rush past at a frantic speed.

  And yet…

  He would have sworn he could feel the tears running through that torrent of perception.

  Then everything stabilized.

  He reappeared inside a small, shabby apartment — but surprisingly well kept.

  He searched for familiar markers.

  And he saw himself.

  A child.

  Sitting on the floor, sewing a tear in his trousers.

  The Needle Case Band strapped to his forehead.

  A rebellious lock of hair fell into his eyes and annoyed him.

  The boy kept blowing at it again and again, without success.

  The apartment was tiny:

  a bed, a table, a small hearth for cooking, a wardrobe, a window, and a narrow terrace where a table stood surrounded by climbing plants.

  Night had fallen.

  Luna shone brightly, and so did the stars.

  Kael — the older one — wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

  Still crying.

  “I’m… in my old home,” he murmured, confused.

  He looked around.

  “It felt so much bigger back then…”

  He walked toward the terrace.

  As he crossed the threshold, he saw his mother.

  Sitting.

  Silent.

  Her gaze lost on the horizon.

  The view was magnificent.

  The Soléen stretched out in the distance, and just below shimmered the Lantern Market.

  An endless chaos of sound… yet strangely comforting.

  The rents were low in this district for one simple reason: the constant noise.

  Orelia looked thoughtful.

  Very thoughtful.

  Kael sat at the table, across from her.

  The second chair was empty.

  He looked at her, a trembling smile on his lips, eyes still red.

  She radiated such serenity… he thought.

  Then he exhaled aloud:

  “I know what you’re thinking, Mom… Please, don’t go…”

  Suddenly, a joyful crash shattered the silence.

  Little Kael burst in running, proud as a peacock.

  His hand-sewn trousers held above his head.

  Orelia snapped out of her reverie and broke into a wide smile.

  The child handed her the trousers.

  She examined them carefully.

  The boy approached the chair where the adult Kael was sitting.

  The latter jumped up to let him sit.

  Kael inspected the work of his miniature double.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  The trousers were a disaster:

  the crooked stitching twisted one leg out of shape, the stitches were clumsy, the fabric even more damaged than before.

  “You’ve come a long way since then…” Kael muttered to himself. “This is a disaster.”

  Orelia, however, was still looking at the trousers, but with a more distant expression.

  Kael sighed.

  “I know what you’re thinking… And you should stop right now.

  A better pair of trousers won’t make him happy… trust me.”

  She finally answered the child:

  “That’s good, my little rascal. You’re practicing. It’s still clumsy, but there’s progress.”

  She handed the trousers back to him.

  Then her face grew slightly more serious.

  “Kael… Mom will have to be away for a few days.”

  The adult Kael’s blood ran cold.

  “No…” he whispered.

  Orelia continued:

  “I’ve received a commission from important people.

  If everything goes well, I’ll come back with plenty of money.”

  Little Kael lit up.

  “And then I can have lots of needles for sewing?”

  Orelia chuckled softly.

  “Yes, my little rascal. And maybe… maybe we’ll have our own workshop, just for the two of us.

  What do you think?”

  The adult Kael’s shoulders began to tremble.

  He was suffocating.

  He knew.

  He knew far too well what that decision would cost.

  The child jumped from his chair, excited.

  “Yes! And I’ll be the Master Weaver! You’ll see — when you come back, I’ll be better than you!”

  “Stop…” Kael sobbed.

  “Stop… please…”

  Orelia burst into laughter, grabbed him, and sat him on her lap.

  “Oh, that… my son… there’s no doubt about it.

  You’ll be the best weaver in the world.”

  Kael collapsed completely, shattered.

  “PLEASE… DON’T GO…!”

  But no one heard his cry.

  Orelia and little Kael simply kept looking at the stars.

  And everything vanished once more.

  A surge of sensations, images, smells, sounds, tastes.

  A maelstrom.

  Kael thought, lost:

  “I didn’t remember all this…

  This is torture.

  I should never have opened that book…

  I’m forced to relive what I fear the most.

  I’m forced to relive the cause of all my suffering…”

  Everything stopped abruptly.

  Kael found himself in front of the workshop.

  The chimneys were running at full force, spewing thick smoke.

  He saw the scene.

  Himself, as a child, holding Connie’s hand.

  And his mother, kneeling before him, hands on his cheeks.

  “I’ll be back very soon. Two days at most,” Orelia murmured.

  She stroked his cheek with her thumb.

  Little Kael said, excited,

  “Auntie Connie is going to teach me how the bellows work! I’m going to work with the Weavers today!”

  Connie smiled.

  “Oh yes. We won’t go easy on you, big guy.”

  The boy flexed his arms, puffing imaginary muscles:

  “Look at my muscles! I’m the strongest weaver!”

  Connie squeezed his biceps.

  “Oh yes… They’re like stone! In that case, you’ll handle the bellows on your own.”

  “Awesome!”

  The adult Kael watched the scene.

  The tears kept flowing without him trying to stop them.

  He was trembling.

  Orelia stood up, ran a hand through her son’s hair, then said with a gentle smile:

  “Take care of the Weavers while I’m gone. Make sure they don’t slack off.”

  “Promise, Mom!”

  She walked away.

  Toward the dock.

  Toward a Soléen boat about to depart for the High Lands.

  The adult Kael rushed in front of her.

  “You don’t have to leave, you know!” he shouted frantically.

  He circled around her, invisible, panicked.

  But she didn’t see him.

  Yet in her eyes… a tear already shimmered, held back.

  Kael continued, voice breaking:

  “You don’t have to leave… He needs you!”

  He pointed toward little Kael in the distance, waving at his mother.

  Orelia kept walking.

  Unyielding.

  The weight of her choice in her heart.

  “Please, Mom! Listen to me!

  Leaving is the worst thing you’ll ever do to him!”

  She handed her belongings to the boatman.

  Kael screamed again:

  “When you leave… everything is going to fall apart! I’m begging you!”

  But she boarded the boat.

  Kael collapsed to his knees.

  Breathless.

  No words came out.

  He could only watch his mother drift away… powerless.

  He turned his head toward his past self, who was skipping back into the workshop with joy.

  Kael whispered, broken:

  “If only he knew…

  If only… he knew what this would cause…”

  And one last time,

  everything vanished.

  No sensation.

  Nothing but emptiness.

  And a broken heart.