There are memories we bury…
Not because they hurt.
But because they might destroy the person we've become.
Night Did Not End Gently
The fire died slowly. The embers glowed a dark, pulsing red.
Serenya sat still—too still.
Her breath, shallow.
Her hands, trembling.
Her mind… drifting toward a place no thread should reach.
Caelum knelt beside her, eyes narrowed with growing fear.
"Serenya," he whispered. "Talk to me."
She didn't answer.
Because in her ears, someone else had already begun to speak.
The Voice from the Crimson
"Little Weaver..."
It slithered through her veins like heatless fire.
"You remember so much. And yet—me? Forgotten?"
She knew that voice.
Somewhere beyond knowing.
Beyond comfort.
Beyond safety.
A chill spiraled down her spine as the night twisted itself into shapes that did not belong to the waking world.
And for the first time since the fall of the Tribunal…
Serenya was afraid.
A Dream, or a Warning
In her mind, she stood in a mirror of her childhood.
The village.
The threadlooms.
The first time she ever saw magic…
But nothing was as she remembered.
The loom was blood-red.
The threads were tangled around bones.
And her younger self stood—silent—before another figure.
A woman.
Draped in scarlet veils.
Eyes dark as eclipses.
Smile curved like a dagger.
Voice soft as silk and twice as dangerous.
"Tell me, Serenya."
"Did you really think they were the only ones who shaped you?"
The Memory Unlocks
Serenya's knees buckled. Her body collapsed near the fire in the real world, but her mind remained elsewhere.
Caelum caught her just in time, yelling for help.
"Yorran! Nyra! She's—she's slipping!"
But Yorran stood still.
Pale.
Eyes wide.
"She's not slipping," he murmured.
"She's being pulled."
In the Mindscape
The woman in crimson stepped closer.
Serenya tried to move—tried to scream—but the air had thickened to glass.
The woman caressed her cheek like a lover. Like a mother.
"Do you remember me now, sweet one?"
Serenya's lips trembled.
"No…"
"You should."
The mirror around them shattered.
And behind it—a crib.
Inside: a child.
Black thread around her wrists.
A sigil branded behind her shoulder—the mark of binding.
"I was your first mother," the woman whispered.
"Not by blood… but by creation."
Truth Hurts
The world shifted again.
Now Serenya stood as a child—five years old—inside a red chamber.
The woman sat on a throne, her fingers wrapped around a newborn thread, humming.
"You were never just a weaver," she said.
"You were woven. By me."
Serenya gasped, eyes wet with horror.
"That's not true."
"It is. The Loomfather only found you. I… made you."
The Crimson Weaver
The woman's name slid from memory like oil—never staying, never holding.
But her presence was seared into Serenya's soul.
"Why… why show me now?" she asked, voice barely more than wind.
The woman leaned in.
"Because you've undone the Loomfather."
"And now the gods above him are watching."
"The Pattern you broke wasn't the only one…"
Back to Reality
Serenya's body jolted. She sat up with a gasp, chest heaving.
The fire flared to life around her again—flames dancing with crimson light.
The others surrounded her.
Caelum gripped her arm, eyes wild. "What did you see?"
She looked at him…
And could barely speak.
"I… I wasn't just a rebel."
"I was… a weapon."
"Made for a war I've forgotten."
Revelation
Nyra's voice trembled. "What war?"
Serenya stood, brushing ash from her palms.
"One older than the Tribunal."
"One they were trying to delay by controlling fate."
Yorran finally found his voice.
"You're saying the Tribunal weren't the true gods?"
Serenya turned toward the horizon.
"No."
"They were shields."
"And I just broke the last one."
Across the Sky
Far away, cracks opened across the fabric of night.
Not lightning.
Not storm.
But eyes.
Dozens.
Hundreds.
Watching.
And from each: a thread descending toward the earth.
Not to judge.
To collect.
To reclaim what was once theirs.
The First Tear
One thread pierced the sky above Serenya.
It hovered.
It hummed.
And then—
It dripped blood.
The war had begun.
And Serenya?
She wasn't just the spark.
She was the fuse.