Eli left the shop clutching the teacup, his heart lighter than it had been in months. Word spread quickly through Grayhaven that something magical lay behind the frosted glass of Shoplyfter. Not all who entered Shoplyfter left with joy. One night, as a bitter wind howled and the moon hid behind a veil of clouds, a figure cloaked in black slipped through the door. He called himself Morrow , a collector of rare things—particularly those that could bend fate.
Inside, however, the world was very different. Fiona Frost was not a name the townsfolk used lightly. She was a woman of indeterminate age—her silver hair always seemed to shimmer like newly fallen snow, and her eyes were the deep, clear blue of a winter lake. She wore a long, charcoal coat that brushed the floor, its cuffs embroidered with tiny, twinkling crystals that caught the light whenever she moved. shoplyfter fiona frost
Fiona’s breath formed a thin veil of frost in the air. “The heart belongs to no one,” she replied calmly. “It belongs to the stories it holds. And those stories are not yours to command.” Eli left the shop clutching the teacup, his
