The Eclipse Blend drifted back into the broken cold brew tower like smoke returning to its jar. The café stayed eerily silent, as if listening for the Weaver's return.
Milo rubbed his temples."Yara… what was that thing?"
"A Fatekeeper."She swallowed."One of the originals."
Milo tensed."Like you?"
"No," she whispered. "I maintain the café. I read fates. I keep things aligned. But Fatekeepers… they guard the threads of all human lives. They enforce destiny."
She stared at the cracked cold brew tower.
"And the Eclipse Blend hurt one."
Milo sank onto a barstool."Why would it protect me?"
Yara hesitated.
"…because you created it."
"That was an accident."
"It doesn't matter."Her voice trembled."Magic born from a person recognizes that person."
Milo blinked."So the drink is… loyal?"
"No." Yara shook her head."Not loyal. Connected."
A hum echoed from the back room.
Milo stiffened."That's the ledger room."
Yara was already moving."Something's happening."
They pushed open the ledger room door—only to find dozens of books floating in the air, pages whipping violently like birds caught in a storm.
Ink spattered across the walls, glowing violently.
Then a single ledger slammed into the table.
Milo's.
Its pages flew open to the center.
And ink began pouring from the spine—dark, molten, alive—pooling on the table before twisting upward as a web of symbols.
"Milo," Yara whispered, stepping back, "it's trying to write you."
The ink-web twitched, forming shapes, lines, possible futures flashing like lightning:
Milo as a Fatekeeper
Milo is merging with the café
Milo erased entirely
Milo ruling over unfinished fates
Milo severing all future threads
Each vision flickered.None held.The ink collapsed, rejecting every possibility.
The ledger snapped shut with a violent crack.
Milo stumbled backward, breath shaking.
"It can't write you," Yara said."You're too unstable. Too… free."
The floor rumbled.The café lights flickered dangerously.
"Milo…" Yara whispered, gripping his arm, "The ledger's rejecting you so violently it's destabilizing everything around it."
"What does that mean?"
"It means your fate is bleeding into the room. Into the café. Into the city."
Milo swallowed."So I'm the tear the Weaver warned about."
Yara didn't deny it.
Instead, she walked to a shelf and pulled down a sealed jar containing swirling white dust.
She handed it to Milo.
"What is this?" he asked.
"Fate chalk," she said. "The strongest anchor the café has. You draw with it to stabilize a threadless path."
"Draw what?"
"A choice."
Milo stared at her.
But she didn't look back.
She looked at the ledger.
"Milo… we need to stabilize you before the Weaver returns."