Prologue

The little girl liked to make things.

Sometimes, she would make dogs out of old rags, breathing life into the dolls she had made and giving them names as they followed her like dutiful pets.

Other times, she would find her hair tangled in snarls and elaborate braids when she couldn't remember how they got there.

The little girl wasn't allowed out of the house. Her grandmother was her only family, both her teacher and her guardian.

The threshold was painted in blood. Elaborate sigils that made her skin prickle if she got near.

The outside world meant pain.

"Do you know how to look for the signs, Mallory?" Her grandmother would ask, her eyes glazed over as if she peered into the veil.

"Threads." The little girl nodded. "Even the best Weavers can't hide their threads."

The old woman held up a wooden coin and turned it over in her fingers, and the little girl watched as silver magic wrapped the coin like a spiderweb. "What I have woven will come to pass, Mallory." Her grandmother nodded staunchly. "You will need your own hounds, but I have prepared. I have woven a future where he will pay for what he has done."