NOVEL WEB Chapter 9: The Blessing Bloom
It began subtly.
Ezrel was still sleeping like he always did, while Lysette's fingers tightened around his sleeve a moment before he moved.
He yawned. She exhaled first.
He shifted left, and she leaned right, already predicted when it would happen.
"See how in synch she is?" one maid whispered, hands clasped in awe. "She moves as if she senses his soul."
"Like she walks his path before him," said another. "Our Lady must be smiling happily now."
---
In the corner, there was a young maid who was scribbling quickly into a thin journal. Her hand never trembled, and she was steadily taking a note. She observed with silence.
---
In the nursery, Lysette sat still.
She was no longer mimicking.
She was waiting.
Eyes focused not on her surroundings, but ahead, slightly tilted, slightly raised, as if following invisible threads.
Without even looking, she knew the exact moment his spoon would fall.
Thud.
There it was.
Lysette reached down and picked it up for him before he asked.
Ezrel stared. "Thanks… I guess?"
She blinked once, satisfied.
Ezrel rubbed his eyes as Lysette handed him his spoon.
....How did she know I'd drop it..
She used to mirror me.
Now she moves first.
It's like the mirror cracked… and climbed out.
He didn't say it aloud.
No one would believe him anyway.
And if they did…
It might be worse.
----
Lysette's POV
The world is wide.
There were many things she didn't understand.
She didn't understand the language. She saw other people who would help her with her hunger. But she doesn't understand them fully.
But she understood him.
The rhythm of his breath. The subtle twitch of a brow when he thought too hard. The exact pause he took before he frowned.
She didn't need to know words.
She only needed to be close.
When he was near, her chest didn't hurt. Her body felt whole. Like the space she filled was finally shaped correctly.
And when he left.
When even one inch of his warmth drifted, the threads in her mind twisted tight and angry.
So she watched.
She learned.
And she practiced.
In secret, she'd taught her legs to move exactly two seconds before he did.
She could now reach the door before he turned the handle. Hide behind the curtains before he noticed she'd gone.
To be with him… she had to be faster.
The maids whispered as she crossed the hallway barefoot.
"She turned the corner before he did."
"She knew where he'd go."
"She's not following…"
"She's leading."
A hush fell.
But it wasn't fear. It was reverence.
One older maid wiped a tear. "She's walking beside him. As if born to guard it and cherish it."
Another nodded, hands to her chest. "Like his shadow ."
The young maid at the wall still didn't speak. Just kept writing. Eyes wide with purpose.
On her page, just five words...
...He moves where she leads....
----
In Divine Realm
In the realm where threads wove stars and silence, Nyemari reclined upon a throne of silk and gold.
The Silk Mother gazed down with veiled eyes, the strands of fate billowing in currents too fine for mortals to see.
She tugged once.
A thousand futures snapped.
Then….
She leaned forward.
On one side of her mirror.
There was Ezrel Dormir....
Bound to a sigil that pulsed with cursed sleep and quiet rebellion.
On the other side...
Lysette Dormir...
Her string was thin, golden, and stitched tighter by the hour.
The threads between them shimmered. Growing stronger.
"Stranger from the other world…"
Nyemari whispered to the sleeping Ezrel.
"You're destined to be lonely..."
She smiled.
"But don't be afraid. Cause you are no longer alone."
A dozen silk spiders bowed to her.
"The thread has found its needle. My successor has begun her stitching."
She placed one clawed finger to the glowing knot where Lysette's line touched his.
"Her vow is not yet made. But her heart is already sewing."
The Silk Mother leaned back, veil fluttering.
"I will watch. And weave."
----
That night, Ezrel lay in bed.
Lysette was already there.
Not because she'd been placed, but because she'd arrived on her own, climbed the bed bars, and curled beside him just before he came in.
They don't sleep in crib anymore because it don't big enough for both of them.
Her hand rested gently on his chest.
And as he stared at the ceiling, his sigil pulsed.
Dim. Threaded.
And ready.
But invisible to him.