π The Hollow Thread: A Witch's Tale (Series Intro)
There are places where the veil isn’t just thin — it’s threadbare. And sometimes, if you’re unlucky or chosen (and aren’t those often the same thing?), you trip on a loose stitch and fall right through.
That’s how I met the woman in the swamp.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s rewind.
My name is Brenna. I’ve been called hedge-witch, storm-sister, and that weird lady who lives in the house with all the rosemary. I’ve walked circles in cornfields and called lightning in the dead of July. But nothing — nothing — prepared me for what started that October morning when the cats began to speak Latin and the river ran backwards for an hour.
It started with a thread. A literal one. Red. Unraveling across my floor like someone had knocked over a spool and let it roll all the way out of the world.
I followed it. Of course I did.
And now? I’m in a place where the trees whisper in Old Tongue and nothing has a shadow unless it wants to. A place where familiars walk on two legs and the dead don’t stay buried unless properly bribed.
This isn’t your usual magical mishap. This is a ripping open. Of memory. Of fate. Of the world.
So if you’re reading this — good. It means the message got through. Stick around. I’ve got tales to tell, bones to bury, and maybe a curse or two to unravel.
Welcome to the Hollow Thread.
Stay tuned for Part One: The Cat, the Crows, and the Cottage That Wasn’t There Yesterday.

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