Jace stepped outside for air, the world spinning around him. The cold wind helped, grounding him back into his body. The street was quiet—too quiet for the hour. Even the city felt paused, uneasy.
He turned the corner—
And froze.
A watcher stood waiting.
Not the one from before—someone different. Younger. Sharper. A faint glow traced the veins in their hands like starlight.
"You almost let it claim you," they said. "Impressive that you resisted."
Jace crossed his arms, defensive. "If you're here to threaten me, I'm not in the mood."
"I'm not here to threaten you," the watcher said calmly. "I'm here to show you the truth."
The world blurred.
Jace blinked—and suddenly found himself standing in two overlapping visions:
Vision One: Staying
He saw himself behind the counter years from now.
But it wasn't him.
His movements were automatic. His eyes hollow. The café breathed through him, his autonomy gone. Faye avoided his gaze. Ren never visited. The customers' threads flickered through him like static.
A shell.
A conduit.
A ghost.
Vision Two: Leaving
He saw himself waking up in a small apartment. Alone but peaceful. Drinking plain coffee at a normal café. Laughing with Ren. Sometimes helping people in small, human ways—not with fate, but with kindness.
He saw Faye holding the café together—barely—but still alive, still fighting.
No magic. No threads. No Loom.
Just a life.
The visions faded. The watcher stepped closer.
"You don't owe fate your entire existence," they said. "You're allowed to choose a life beyond it."
Jace swallowed. "But if I leave—the café—"
"It will hurt," the watcher admitted. "But pain is not the same as death."
Jace looked back toward the café. Its neon sign flickered like a heartbeat.
"I don't want to abandon them," Jace whispered.
"You're not abandoning anyone," the watcher said softly. "You're choosing yourself."
The world snapped back.
The watcher was gone.
Jace stood alone under the dim neon glow.
And for the first time, the decision no longer felt like a trap.
It felt like freedom.