Ari danced, her toddler body swaying to the music that Da was playing on his lyre. Not a thought in her head, just feeling the music swirling around her and nudging her to move this way, that way, arms swaying, body swirling around until she got so dizzy she fell down.

The music stopped. Da laughing and Ma swooping in to pick Ari up and dust her off. Mumbled words Ari didn't understand. Ma passing her off to Da. Da putting her down and grabbing her coat. She hated that coat. Hated it. Hot and stuffy. Just let her love the cold!

And so she burst into tears, throwing herself back down on the floor, pounding her tiny fists on the ground.

With each hit of her little hand to the rug of the living room floor, a bit of ice spread out. It felt so good.

"Look, Ward," Ma said, "she's making ice already!"

Ari's attention snapped back to the War Abbey.

Sister Tara was sitting across from her. Their knees were touching. It helped Ari to ground into reality.

After Brother Stavius had died, Ari hadn't had any trouble staying present. She'd been resolute about not attempting to Threadwalk anymore. There was a part of her, a small deep voice, that said she should leave the War Abbey, forego her studies in Aleatoric Sorcery, but she pushed the thought away. She could find balance. She could learn to observe the threads and advise the Generals towards finally winning the War, without Threadwalking herself.

Brother Stavius had been replaced by Sister Tara as the teacher of Aleatoric Sorcery at the War Abbey. It was a prestigious position, one that Sister Tara hadn't expected to find herself in quite so soon.

"Were you able to access the Thread?" she said to Ari.

"Yes," Ari said.

"And?" Sister Tara prompted.

This was a training session, not casual practice, so recounting of the experience was expected, not that there was much to recount. Accessing and observing past threads was a routine practice, as the Threads of the Past informed the Threads of the Future.

"I was young. Barely a toddler. No conscious thoughts. I could barely articulate 'Dad and Mom' let alone anything else. I was dancing, my father had been playing his lyre, and I spun round and round until I was dizzy, and fell. Mom fussed over me, she was always fussing over my dresses. Her need for everything to be pristine. I could feel the tension, though I don't remember that I would have called it that. Dad grabbed my coat. We must have been going somewhere. But I hated that coat. And then I just started screaming. A toddler tantrum. Pounding my fist on the carpet, just pure emotion, and the ice started, spreading out on the rug each time my fist hit it. I could feel the cold and it felt good. I wanted more of it."

Sister Tara nodded. "How did your parents react to that first display?"

"Mom was thrilled. She's Winterborn, too. Top of her field," Are said.

"Solid State Alchemy, right?"

"Yeah," Ari said. "Really good stuff. She'd been young on her first display, too. So I don't think she was really surprised."

"And your dad? How did he react?"

"I..." Ari paused. "I don't know. The memory ended before I could see how he reacted." That wasn't really the truth. Ari had left before she'd seen his reaction to her young display of power. She didn't want to see it.

Sister Tara nodded again. "Well, I think that's enough for now. It's almost time for Work rounds."

Ari stood up, stretching her muscles. She hadn't told Sister Tara about the Threadwalking. Only that she'd been having some trouble with connecting to the Threads of her own memories and needed some extra support in her practices. Sister Tara had been happy to offer some private tutoring sessions.

Ari sat and breathed in the aroma of the liquid brewing in her mug. Not quite tea, it was a special recipe crafted only in a remote monastery built into the side of a volcano - the rich soils allowed for the siblings of the monastery to grow rare plants that didn't grow anywhere else in the Realms, with magical and healing properties that were useful in Ari's work.

The siblings left regular offerings of the blend, and she rewarded them well for it.

Her mind drifted through the threads of memory.

She still hadn't found the right one.

She would though.

In the meantime, she enjoyed her steaming not-quite-tea and pondered the unfolding pattern of her current weaving.