The Memory Loom

The Memory LoomThe scent hit Marcus first—lavender and cedar mixed with something indefinable, something that made his teeth ache with nostalgia. He'd been dreading this return to his childhood home for weeks, but the estate couldn't settle itself. Now, standing in the doorway of the attic he'd been forbidden to enter as a child, he understood why his mother had always kept it locked.The wooden loom dominated the cramped space, its frame carved with symbols that seemed to shift when he wasn't looking directly at them. Threads of impossible colors stretched across its width—some silver as moonl