But it didn't stop there. Oh no, it went on for days. Quietly. Relentlessly. And she kept it all to herself.
Why were the Threads even there in the first place?
Why did everything feel so... mechanical?
Like the world was running on gears instead of magic.
She paused mid-step one afternoon, staring at a bird frozen mid-flap in the sky.
The Threads around it didn't flutter. They ticked.Like clock hands.
That's when it hit her.
Wait.
Was this world… scripted?
No, that couldn't be…
And yet… it made far too much sense.
Back then, Verena had been insufferable. She was cruel, taunting, almost delighting in tormenting her. But right in the middle of her broken engagement with Raphael, something shifted.
Something shone behind her eyes.
Was it self-awareness? Confusion?
It was like someone had turned on a light in a room Verena didn't know existed.
And then, she ran.
