"Sunday?"

I was trying to figure out how on earth to reply to Calen. He'd texted to make sure I was alright after I left so suddenly the night before, but I was so jumbled that I couldn't even figure out how to respond normally.

"Anyone in there?"

I told him I was fine, that I was just tired and wanted to leave after checking in, but now he was asking to meet up. I wasn't really sure what to do about that.

Part of me wanted to see him. I wanted to test if that fight or flight instinct was really what I was feeling. I might be picking up on a connection between us, but something inside me might not like that connection. I was finally starting to confront the idea that I might be a little scared of what was happening, that I might need some space, and I wasn't sure how to phrase that.

"Sunday!"

"Ahh!" I jumped, snapping to attention. My phone fell from my hand, bounced across the counter, and clattered to the ground on the other side.

Dante stared at me from across the counter, brow furrowed. He bent down, retrieved my phone, and wordlessly held it out to me.

"That's why it's a case," I mumbled, cheeks flushing as I took it from him.

"Are you okay? You seem... on edge, to put it lightly," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm okay. Just trying to figure out what to say to Calen."

"Ah. I presume the soul mate bond is going well, then?" he asked, leaning against the counter.

"It's going," I said noncommittally.

I wasn't really sure I wanted to tell the previous object of my unrequited affection about my potential troubles in my current relationship. Hell, there might not even be any troubles at all. I could be totally overthinking it.

I was definitely starting to wonder why I'd wanted to find a soul mate bond so badly in the first place, though. It had only been two weeks since I met him, but it was already more trouble than I ever imagined it would be.

"You must feel lucky," he said with a sigh. "To know for sure, I mean."

"... For sure," I echoed vaguely, but there was a strange tightness in my chest when I looked at his expression.

"I'm sorry, did I say something wrong?"

"No, it's just..." I paused, trying to think of how to articulate it. "Remember how I told you I felt locked into a system? It's a little like that. The security of it is great, in a way, but it can also feel a little suffocating."

"That makes sense," he said, nodding.

"Your bonds are by choice, right? Like a... chemical, biological thing for Sylvans?" I fumbled, trying to keep the conversation going, but I probably just sounded a bit awkward.

"Sylvan bonds are voluntary, but both parties can be pressured into one, and... Well, I've seen people destroyed over them," he admitted, shaking his head. "My parents were."

"I'm sorry," I murmured.

"I would say it's alright, but we both know it isn't."

"What... happened?" I asked hesitantly. "Y— you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, obviously, but... if you think it would help."

Dante paused for a moment, seeming to weigh his options.

"Do you have time to sit for a minute?" he finally asked, gesturing towards the table and chairs where I typically did my tarot readings

"I'll bring us both some tea," I said, nodding.

I already had the kettle on, so it only took a moment to get everything settled. I joined Dante by the repaired window, putting down a small tray with a teapot and two cups. He poured, and after a moment of holding our steaming cups, he slowly began to speak.

"Sylvans who participate in political marriages are often pressured to take a soul bond," he explained. "It ties them together somehow, weaving their magic into one being, but... it doesn't always mesh well."

"How does that even work?"

"The best we can tell, it's almost like sharing magic between them. You might be able to tell what's happening more than any of us can, since you can see the Threads." Dante sighed, swirling his tea. "They say it can go through lifetimes, even. Some people even say that when things go wrong, it's one bond trying to erase another from the past. It's almost like the magic won't mix."

"That... doesn't sound too far off from what Calen said about witch soul mates," I muttered, holding my tea in my hands without drinking.

"What did he say?" Dante leaned forward, suddenly alert.

"Um... Basically that Witch's Marks grow more similar over the number of lifetimes you've spent together?"

"Interesting," Dante said slowly. "By that account, anyone could be a soul mate if given enough time together."

I... hadn't thought about it that way before. The fact that there was one person that people kept coming back to seemed enough like destiny that I hadn't questioned it.

Was it possible that we weren't really predetermined partners at all? I thought that the universe picked Calen and I to be together for a reason, because we were meant for each other, because we were the perfect match in some way, but...

If given enough time over enough lives, could a soul mate mark happen for anyone?

Something flashed outside the window, and I jumped, but it was only a passing car catching the light.

"Sorry," I said, putting down my teacup. "I'm still a little twitchy since that fireball."

"They're still determined the Hourglass caused it over at the Council," he said, rolling his eyes. "And yet, no one has been able to catch even a hint of them besides the déjà vu."

"And all this is based on some vague prophecy that no one will let me see?" I grumbled, sipping down my tea in a few gulps from sheer annoyance.

"That's the ticket, unfortunately," Dante grumbled, following my gaze out the window.

"Is there any way at all that you can show it to me?" I asked urgently. "Please."

I might as well ask. Dante was the only person I could ask, and if I was lucky, he might be willing to bend the rules for me. Granted, that would require going back into sylvan territory, sneaking into wherever they kept the prophecy, and then... Well, okay, that might be less likely than I thought.

Dante sighed and drained his cup, then poured both of us refills as he spoke.

"I can't. It's under lock and key, and I can't remove it without permission from the Council," he said softly. "I... I can tell you what it is, though. I think you deserve to know."

I motioned for him to go on with it.

"Not here," he said quietly. "Later. We'll talk at your place. The walls have ears, you know."

"Yeah, that's probably not a bad idea," I conceded. I didn't really think anyone would stalk me to my shop, but I also hadn't thought anyone would throw a fireball through my window.

Or send a vampire to kill me.

Or try to drop a block of concrete on my head.

Dante and I finished our tea, and then there was no one in the shop. It was only a little before closing, and it was getting dark outside, so I turned on the lamp at the counter and pulled out the journal from the Sylvan Library. I might as well look at it now.

I skimmed through the entries to get a gist of the book as a whole first. It seemed to start after the writer was aware that she was a Weaver and extend on into the rest of her life.

Really, actually the rest of her life. That last entry still spooked me a little. She'd either abandoned the journal and managed to live, or whoever she was worried about managed to catch up with her pretty quick.

The entires weren't daily. There could be days, weeks, or months in between them, it seemed like, and the whole book spanned over a decade. One of the entries in the middle caught my eye, though.

The writer described a "gentleman caller" that came to take her to the opera in London. That would certainly explain why the book was written in English.

She said he took care of everything, even down to her dress, which was a beautiful green silk embroidered with gold thread and studded... with...

Studded with pearls.

Wait. Pause.

I scanned ahead to see if she said which opera they were watching, but the more I read, the more the scene matched what I remembered. It was too close to be a coincidence.

That was the same scene from my vision the other day. I remembered it exactly. I was at a theater with Calen, and I was wearing the same green dress that she described. We were watching the same opera— I remembered because Orpheus and the Underworld is one of the few that I'd be able to name the music from.

So if Elizabeth was my past incarnation, and Elizabeth was also a Weaver... were all my past incarnations the Weaver? Is that why there was never more than one at a time?

It made sense, so much sense that I felt like an idiot for not thinking of it. The magic wasn't tied to a random person fated to have it. The Weaver was me. It was tied to my soul. Every time I started a new life, I was born with the magic. It happened over and over again, and Calen was there as my soul mate over and over again.

I needed to call Dante.

Now.