In that deep dark cavern where nothing was meant to reside, Ana sat in place, her eyes trained on the golden loom before her, she couldn't help but ponder the source of the damage that had been done to the threads.
It was a perfect story, one that was supposed to take place over a few months.
She'd made sure it was logical and without conflict, ensuring that Alex's desire to avoid battling the Order would be fulfilled.
Unfortunately, an anomaly showed up at some point and ended up creating a plot hole so big, that there was no way her previously devised story could still hold.
But there was a plan B and though regretful that they'd have to use it, she knew that there was no point dwelling on ifs and buts.
So she moved, her fingers dancing as though she were leading a musical number as a choirmaster, causing several golden threads, thinner than a spider web, to emerge from her fingertips.
