Tes didn’t need any of these things to fix a bit of broken magic. All she needed were her eyes. Her eyes, which for some reason saw the world not just in shape and color, but in threads. Everywhere she looked, she saw them. A glowing ribbon curled in the water of her tea. A dozen more ran through the wood of her table. A hundred delicate lines wove through the bones of her pet owl. They twisted and coiled through the air around and above everyone and everything. Some were dull, and others bright. Some were single strands and others braided filaments, some drifted, feather light, and others
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