Fatebinder Chronicles Free Short Story

A gift for all my subscribers

I’m kicking off March by launching The Fatebinder Chronicles, monthly short stories set in Kali Sweet’s urban fantasy world of Chicago. These stories feature Faron and Bane from Sweet Malice, but you don’t need to read that book to enjoy their chemistry and adventures.

After this month, The Fatebinder Chronicles monthly stories will be for paid subscribers only in my Feel Good Fiction Community. I’m writing them to give you a moment of your day to escape into a fantasy world that will bring you action, adventure, and humor. They can be enjoyed over a cup of your favorite brew or before bedtime. ☕️💜 Check out the Index if you need to catch up.

I’ve included an audio version read by me at the end. Forgive the fumbled words—I’m not a professional narrator, but I do love the feeling like I’m reading you a bedtime story! :)

If you’re not a paid subscriber and would like access to all the stories, audios, and other bonuses I offer, you can upgrade here: https://mistyevansauthor.substack.com/subscribe?

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Fate is a tangled thing… and sometimes, it needs a little help.

In the shadows of Chicago, where magic hums beneath the pavement and creatures of myth walk among mortals, Faron—one of the three Fates—works to keep destiny on course.

But fate doesn’t always cooperate, and neither do the things that lurk in the dark.

With her enigmatic bodyguard Bane by her side, Faron untangles cursed destinies, confronts creatures that defy fate, and deals with the consequences when someone tries to restring the threads of time.

Each month, dive into a new supernatural mystery filled with magic, danger, and a partnership forged in secrets.

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Thread Eater, A Faron and Bane Urban Fantasy Short Story

The Fatebinder Chronicles

©2025 Misty Evans

The Mystic Bean Coffee Shop offers contemplation and a hunting ground of sorts, the air infused with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the low hum of conversations weaving together like silken threads.

I twirl my spoon in my mug, watching the cute heart the barista made in my latte ripple and disappear. He eyes me from behind the counter, offering a crooked grin and a wink any time I glance his way.

Sorry, kid. Our fates are not entangled.

I should know. I trace invisible fate threads onto a napkin with my fingernail. They shimmer faintly, their silver glimmers barely visible against the white paper, imperceptible to anyone without my particular skill set. I’m one of the three ‘mythical’ Fates and I’m stuck in Chicago, where magic is as common as potholes — and equally ignored.

It’s also expensive as hell and I’ve got bills to pay.

Bane sits across from me, arms crossed over his massive chest, radiating disapproval like a space heater set to ‘judgmental.’ My supernatural bodyguard, sent by gods no longer worshipped in this day and age, is all sharp angles and hard muscle. With black hair cropped close to his scalp and a jawline that could split stone, his dark bottomless eyes flick to the entrance every time it opens, scanning for threats like the world’s most overzealous bouncer. At least, that is, when he’s not shooting daggers at the barista.

“If you’re going to glare at everyone who comes in,” I say, sipping my latte, “at least pretend you're not looking for something to punch. You’re scaring away the clientele and mama needs to eat tonight.”

“I'm not looking to punch anyone or anything,” Bane mutters, voice gravelly enough to exfoliate stone. “I’m waiting for something or someone to try and punch you.”

“Aww, you do care.” I flutter my lashes at him, earning exactly zero reaction. He’s lying, of course. His favorite pastime is beating up evil doers and those who prey on the innocent.

He grunts and steals a piece of my raspberry scone, popping it into his mouth without breaking eye contact with the door. There’s only one bite left and my stomach rumbles, knowing that won’t be enough to fill it.

The bell above the entrance chimes and a young woman stumbles in. Frizzy red curls frame wide, panic-stricken eyes, as she snugs her battered yellow coat around her like a lifeline. She spots me immediately — probably the black leather jacket and 'don’t talk to me unless you’re flush with cash' vibe give me away — and beelines to our table.

“You’re Faron?” she whispers, voice shaking. “One of the…Fates?”

“Depends.” I take another drink, regarding her carefully. Has the vengeance demon Kali Sweet or one of her supernatural colleagues sent this gal my way? I work for Kali and her Sweet Investigations agency off and on. More off than on at the moment, hence my lack of funds and need to work on my own side hustle. “Are you selling something? Because I’m not interested in switching phone carriers.”

The sarcasm goes over her head. “I... I think someone is cutting my thread. I heard you could help.”

I set down my cup, my pulse ticking up a notch. No point in asking how she can see her own thread of fate—the telltale mark is on her temple. She’s been touched. “Sit.”

Juanita Mendez. Her name floats into my mind. She fidgets with her sleeves, swallowing hard once she takes in Bane’s size and dour expression. I shoot him a look—tone it down! He hides his eye roll, straightens, and pulls out a chair for her. “Can I get you something to drink?”

She accepts the chair but shakes her head at the offer. “A week ago, I ran into a street magician at Navy Pier. Since then, I’ve started seeing faint, silvery lines connecting people.” She stares at the space between us. “I can see mine connecting to you right now. Weird, right?”

Fate threads. I glimpse the one she’s talking about, strung between us and desperately trying to hook onto me. It can’t. “I can remove the ability,” I tell her, lifting a hand toward her temple.

She rears back, curls bouncing as she shakes her head again. “You don’t understand. Mine is starting to fray.”

I examine it closer. The fibers have shredded holes in them, resembling teeth marks. Interesting. “Threads don’t just fray,” I say, more to myself than her. “Yours looks…chewed on.”

Bane leans in, looming like a storm cloud. “Who was the magician?”

“His name is Felix,” she says. “He said he could change people’s luck...for a price. But now, my thread is breaking and I feel sick all the time. My boyfriend left me, my cat ran away, and I got a demotion at work. That’s not lucky!”

I sigh, rubbing my forehead. I’ve had run-ins with Felix before.

Avoiding the human emotions pouring off her, I rattle off my standard policy bullet points and payment options. Hey, a girl can’t live in Chicago for free, and I’m not about to pretend to be a psychic to earn money.

“The situation will be resolved by nightfall,” I tell her, hearing my phone notify me that her cash transfer has hit my app. “And stay away from magicians.”

Sending her home, Bane and I track Felix to a hidden speakeasy beneath the Chicago Riverwalk. Since living and working here, I’ve learned it’s the hotspot for supernaturals to gather and drown their sorrows in enchanted booze. A lot of deals go down here, as well.

As we step inside, the dimly lit space is filled with strange and mystical creatures, each holding a glowing drink in their hands. Smoke drifts through the air, casting eerie shadows on the walls.

Felix, a wiry con artist with jittery hands and a permanent five o’clock shadow, nearly falls off his barstool when he sees me.

Or maybe it’s because of my shadow. Bane’s menacing presence sends more than a few of the crowd scattering for the exits.

“We need to chat about Juanita Mendez,” I say, taking the stool next to Felix. “It’s not nice to touch other people’s threads.”

“I didn’t, swear on my soul!” He wipes his sweaty forehead with a cocktail napkin. “That’s not my gig.”

“I wouldn’t swear on your soul,” Bane rumbles, his voice like distant thunder. “It’s not worth much at the moment.”

Felix looks like he’s about to bolt. Or pass out. Or, at the very least, hurl on me. I latch onto his elbow and brace in case I need to avoid projectile vomiting. “Her thread has gushes in it, bite marks. What did you do to her?”

His eyes dart around like a cornered rat. “I don’t touch threads, you know that. I feed on the energy when people’s fates shift. That’s all.”

“Still not acceptable,” I tell him. What a bottom feeder. The bartender wanders over to see if Bane and I want a drink. Bane curls a lip at him and the guy turns on his heel and gets busy cleaning an already clean glass. “Find something else to feed off of,” I say.

He jerks his arm from my grip and turns on me, grabbing my wrist so fast that I startle. Bane instantly palms a blade and points it at his throat. Felix drops my wrist. “Something else is out there, Faron. Something hungry. People are losing pieces of themselves. I heard whispers about a Thread Eater.”

I glance at Bane, and he raises a brow—about the closest he ever gets to sounds fun.

Weirdo. Who in their right mind wants to hunt down monsters and tangle with them?

He does.

Admittedly, I do, too.

An hour later, he and I corner the creature in an abandoned theater, its spindly body tangled in broken fate threads. It hisses, showing us a mouth full of jagged teeth as it skitters along the rafters like a spider.

“I’ll draw it out,” I say, stepping onto the stage. I hold open my hand to form a glowing ball of light, putting a spotlight on me. “I always did want my fifteen minutes of fame on a stage.”

Bane follows, his hand engulfing mine to quench the light. “That’s a terrible plan, Fare.”

“Come on. Terrible plans are my specialty.” I wink and deliberately snap a fate thread in the air. It lights up—a different kind of spotlight.

The creature shrieks and lunges. Bane springs into the air, catching it and wrestling it to the floor like they’re in some supernatural cage match.

The thing claws at him, trying to get to me. I chant under my breath, weaving a binding spell as Bane wrestles the monster like it insulted his mother.

Some part of my brain wonders, does he have a mother?

With the final word of my incantation, the creature begins to dissolve. I pull a locket from my pocket and open it. Like a magnet, it draws the creature’s essence into it while the spidery body melts into a disgusting liquid.

I grin, blowing imaginary smoke from my fingers before I slip the locket back into its hiding spot. “Teamwork,” I say, striding to Bane and nudging him with my elbow.

“I hate you,” he mutters, wiping ichor off his ruined jacket.

We walk to Juanita’s, and I can sense her thread already repairing itself. At the door, she blinks at us with a blank expression. “We took care of the problem,” I say. “Just wanted you to know.”

“Sorry,” she says, curiosity on her face. “Do I know you?”

Bane draws me away. “Wrong house,” he tells her.

She closes the door without another word.

“She doesn’t remember us,” I whisper, my stomach sinking.

“The Thread Eater wasn’t only devouring human fates,” Bane says grimly. “It was eating the memories tied to the unraveling threads.”

I sigh. “I wish it had eaten my memory of your bad attitude.”

Bane glances down at me, deadpan. “I live to disappoint you.”

I snort, threading my arm through his as we disappear into the city’s shadows, ready to track down the next monster who messes with human lives. “We made enough on this gig for a couple of meals. Pizza?”

He gives a crooked grin. “Thought you’d never ask.”

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I hope you enjoyed this free short story. Stay tuned for next month’s adventure in the Fate Binder Chronicles when Faron and Bane uncover a plot involving a necromancer and a soul that refuses to stay dead.

Misty

P.S. If you enjoyed receiving this free short story, hit the heart below to let me know. And here’s the audio version!