The wind howled as Kael ventured deeper into the wildlands beyond the broken city, where nature had begun reclaiming what man and magic had shattered. The ground was uneven with cracks of seared stone, remnants of old battles. Strange flora twisted toward the sky—some glowing faintly, others barbed and pulsing with a faint hum of ambient energy. Every step felt like it took him further away from what remained of civilization, but closer to whatever fate had placed in his path.
He hadn't seen Elara since their encounter. Her words lingered in his thoughts like a thread woven into his spirit: Face your inner chaos.
It wasn't easy. The deeper he traveled, the more vivid the memories became—his first awakening, the loss, the rage, the uncontrollable power that had surged through him. Each recollection was a spark threatening to ignite the wildfire again.
But Kael wasn't the same man anymore. He could feel it. The Sigil inside him was no longer just a symbol or a weapon—it was a living, breathing part of him. And lately, it had been stirring… showing him things. Visions. Dreams. Whispers of a place made of shimmering threads, suspended in void. And a voice—ancient, cold, and beckoning.
He paused at the edge of a canyon veiled in mist, an unnatural silence thickening the air. Then, from the fog, came the sound of movement—slow, heavy steps. Something—or someone—was approaching.
Kael dropped into a defensive stance, eyes scanning the veil of grey. From the shadows emerged a tall figure clad in weathered robes, with armor fragments clinging to their limbs like memories of a forgotten war. Their face was hidden by a horned mask, etched with runes that pulsed dimly.
Kael's hand moved toward his weapon, the Sigil beneath his skin reacting instantly, lines of light crawling across his arm.
The masked figure raised a hand. "Peace, Inheritor. I come not to fight, but to witness."
"Witness what?" Kael asked warily, still tense.
"Your unraveling… or your awakening. That depends entirely on how you pull the thread."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "You speak in riddles. Who are you?"
The figure tilted its head. "I am called Thaeon, a Watcher of the Loom. One who observes the great weave of power. You've begun to tug at forces far older than you know. The Loom resists your touch. But it's watching you now."
Kael scoffed. "If the Loom is watching, then it can see I'm trying to survive. Nothing more."
"No, Kael," Thaeon replied, his voice reverent, like a priest speaking in a ruined temple. "You are no longer simply surviving. You are beginning to influence. And influence, in this world, is the first step toward dominion… or destruction."
Lightning cracked overhead, a jagged flash illuminating the canyon walls—and in that moment, Kael saw Thaeon's shadow ripple unnaturally, as if something else stood just behind him.
Kael's Sigil surged with heat. Power gathered in his limbs, begging to be unleashed. But he held back.
"What do you want from me?"
Thaeon stepped closer, unthreatening but solemn. "To offer a glimpse. To show you the cost of the path you're walking."
And with a motion of his hand, the world twisted.
Kael was no longer in the canyon. He stood in a ruined city—not the one he'd just left, but another. One that hadn't fallen yet. Children laughed in the distance. People bustled through narrow streets. And then… everything burned. The sky split open, the earth ruptured, and from the center of it all stood himself, wreathed in a wild, uncontrollable storm of Sigil energy—eyes glowing, mouth silent, but hands outstretched as cities fell.
"No," Kael breathed. "That's not me."
"It is one thread of you," Thaeon's voice echoed in the vision. "A path that may unfold if you chase power without understanding. If you forget who you are."
Kael clenched his fists, the illusion warping, flickering. "I won't become that."
"Then prove it," Thaeon whispered. "Control the power. Seek the knowledge. And never pull more thread than you can weave."
The vision snapped. Kael collapsed to one knee, gasping, sweat dripping down his face.
When he looked up, Thaeon was gone. Only the mist remained, swirling like a veil between worlds.
Kael stared at the place where Thaeon had stood, his thoughts racing. He had no map, no guide… but he had a warning now. And a choice.
He rose, steadier than before.
If the threads were watching, he thought, then he'd give them a show worth remembering.