The threads in my hands went slack, and I looked at Dara's body that lay twenty metres from me, her chest opened, her Threadwork still trailing from her fingers like pale blue spider silk. Her eyes were open, and she was looking at the red sky.
It was not the fact that I had seen so many people die in such a short time, but the mental anguish of seeing them die over and over again. I had held their bodies, closed their eyes, carried their names into the next reset.
But Dara was different from the rest. She had looked at me with hatred in one loop and had died to protect me in another. Dara had secrets she had carried her whole life, and she had chosen to share them with me in the moment of her death, and even up to this moment, I did not fully understand why she trusted me with them.
And now she was gone, just like everyone else, and for a while, nothing moved.
