Leia waited until the morning light had fully broken through the cracked window before she moved again.
Selene had left early — a friend from the guild had promised a chance to clean floors at the local barracks. Leia had pretended to still be asleep, heart racing the moment the door shut behind her mother.
Now the room was still. Quiet.
Perfect.
She sat cross-legged with the old cloak draped across her lap, the worn sewing needle in one hand. The scraps of fabric and tangled thread lay beside her like offerings.
Okay, she whispered inwardly. Just… try again.
She held her breath and focused on the thread.
Nothing happened.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
Leia furrowed her brow. The mark on her wrist remained faint, as though the symbol was asleep. She closed her eyes, remembering how it felt yesterday — that strange pulse under her skin, like something alive.
She pricked her finger with the needle — just lightly.
The mark shimmered.
Instantly, a strand of thread lifted — subtle, no more than a twitch, but it moved.
Her breath caught.
She leaned closer and moved her hand slowly. The thread followed her motion, swaying slightly like it was tethered to her will.
It wasn't perfect.
It wasn't even controllable.
But it was real.
---
The next few hours passed in quiet obsession.
Leia sat hunched on the mat, guiding thread through loops in fabric. The first few attempts ended in knots. The next in broken strands. But eventually, she managed a few clean stitches — not with her hands, but with the thread obeying her direction, bending through the air like a silent dance.
She laughed once — a small, breathy sound — and immediately covered her mouth.
She couldn't let anyone hear.
This wasn't something to brag about.
Not yet.
Especially not when most people believed E-Rank abilities were worthless.
---
By midday, her hands were shaking, and her head felt light. She'd forgotten to eat.
A small section of her cloak now bore a fresh patch. It was simple: nothing enchanted or fancy, just neat lines holding torn cloth together.
But it had been sewn without touch.
Leia stared at it like it was a jewel.
She pressed her fingers to her wrist. The mark pulsed softly beneath her skin — like it was proud of her.
---
Later that evening, Selene returned, bringing a bruised apple and a folded strip of cloth. "Someone left this at the market table. Said it was for cleaning, but no one claimed it."
Leia nodded and tucked it into their storage box. Her mother looked exhausted.
"Did you rest today?" Selene asked.
Leia hesitated, then smiled. "A little."
She didn't say anything about the needle.
Not yet.
She didn't know why.
Maybe she was afraid Selene would tell her to stop. Or maybe, deep down, she wanted this to be hers — something untouched by the past or by their family name.
---
That night, as the lantern flickered low, Leia reached for the needle again.
This time, the thread responded instantly — a single strand rising, curving into the shape of a circle, then falling.
She smiled softly.
Her power wasn't loud. It didn't burn or crush or fly.
But it listened.
And that, in this world, was a beginning.