The Triad. Grachi knew the terms. The Witch was her. The Wolf was Daniel—not a literal wolf, but the protector, the one whose strength came from loyalty. But the Weaver? No one knew who the Weaver was. A weaver of fate, of threads, of the invisible strings that connected magic to reality.
Daniel handed her a folded piece of parchment. It was old, singed at the edges, and written in a script that shimmered. It was a prophecy: grachi in english
“Normal is safe,” Grachi replied, brushing her dark hair back. She looked out the window at the palm trees of Miami. The sun was warm. The world was peaceful. The Triad