Taliana left the group as they continued to discuss the ethical intricacies of wish granting, heading through the ball to greet more friends. Passing into one of the rooms where her father had played with the threads she noticed some doors to other worlds, had found their place along the walls. She paused, checking the threads — the delicate dance that was at work between her mothers wards and her fathers careful manipulation of threads. Masterful work that had been perfected through years and years.
But there was one, one deep green thread that caught her attention. It shimmered and wound around the crowd, in and out of the rooms. It was unusual, seeming to act outside of the careful work of both her parents. Something to keep an eye on… but she watched how it wrapped around the crowd and remembered that she was supposed to NOT be paying attention to such things. So, instead she watched those the thread seemed to be dancing around.
Grace wandered through the ballroom, entranced by the falling snow that never quite reached the guests and the frosted glasses serving colourful drinks. She eased her way past the dance floor filled with creatures from different realms happily colluding and gyrating to the eclectic music accompanying the laughter and chatter. At last she found the door she was looking for; a well varnished green oak with gnarled markings forming methodical patterns on its face. She glanced behind her before reaching for the brass handle and turning it, giving the heavy old oak a push.
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