They didn't leave the chamber immediately.
The silence afterward was suffocating. Rafael stood over Echo's faded form, his last threads curling into nothing like the smoke of a dying candle.
He didn't speak. No one did. The vessel of the Uncore had shattered, but everyone knew it was only a prelude.
"I don't feel like we won," Calyx muttered, leaning against the wall, his gauntlets sparking faintly. "More like we survived a warning."
Stanley was kneeling near the remnants of the ward, his fingers trembling as he recalibrated the glyphs. "It wasn't a warning. It was a test. A litmus of what's to come."
Dasha exhaled sharply. "Echo didn't summon that thing just for show. He wanted to break us. Crack our bonds."
"He failed," Clara said, voice steadier now. Her glyphs were dimmed, but her eyes were clear, hard. "But we can't pretend this is over."
Rafael nodded, finally turning to face them. "We rest for a few hours. Then we move. The Loom's energy is disrupted all over the region—I can feel it. Echo was just the first fracture."
They made camp just outside the shattered chamber. The residual heat made the stone slick and warm like old breath. The air still buzzed faintly, like the mountain itself was remembering the fight.
No one slept easily.
Clara sat beside Rafael, her knees drawn to her chest. Her eyes reflected the firelight, and something deeper.
"I meant what I said," she murmured. "I remember it now. Emberpoint. Dying. Everything."
He didn't answer right away. Then: "I know. I saw it in your glyphs."
Clara looked at him. "We don't have to talk about it now. But someday... we should."
He nodded again. "Someday."
Farther along the slope, Lira, Stanley, and Dasha had gathered around a chunk of reflective ore. It pulsed faintly with unspent resonance. Lira tapped it.
"We could redirect this into a stabilizing node."
"You want to build a failsafe?" Dasha asked.
"I want to give us a way out if things go worse than expected," Lira said. "No matter how much Rafael believes in the Loom, we've seen what happens when it breaks."
Stanley nodded, solemn. "I'll help."
Meanwhile, Beatrice sat alone, sharpening her blade with deliberate, methodical strokes. The rhythmic rasp of steel was the only sound in her corner of the camp. Calyx approached and dropped beside her, wordless.
"You alright?" she asked.
"No," he admitted. "But that's normal."
Beatrice smiled faintly. "You did good today."
"I'll do better tomorrow."
He meant it.
The next day, they journeyed deeper through the heart of the mountains. The tunnels changed—sharper angles, fewer signs of life. The Loom's threads were frayed, dangling like nerve endings, twitching with untamed power.
Rafael sensed something ahead—an aching hollowness, like a thread plucked too tight.
At midday, a tremor rolled through the stone. Rafael paused, fingers on a wall of glyph-etched basalt. "That wasn't natural. Something's moving ahead of us."
A distant howl confirmed it.
They moved in formation, Rafael leading, Beatrice to his right, Clara to his left. Calyx and Dasha took the flanks, Stanley and Lira guarding the rear.
They found the beast half-submerged in the stone floor—an amalgam of metal, bone, and thread. It dragged itself forward with clawed limbs, eyes glowing like forge coals.
"Uncore construct," Stanley muttered. "Part sentient. Part stolen."
It struck without warning.
Calyx leapt first, using her gauntlets to create a shockwave that staggered the construct. Dasha followed, her blade dancing with molten precision. Sparks flew as she carved through one of its limbs, only to watch it regenerate moments later.
Clara and Lira hung back, weaving a protective mesh of thread. Rafael took point, his own threads lashing forward in sharp arcs. He coordinated the battle through instinct, reading the Loom like a shifting score of music.
"Stanley, bind its base! Clara, with me—we'll force a core reveal!"
Stanley invoked a net of resonant chains. They slammed down with a choral hum, anchoring the construct in place. Clara mirrored Rafael's attack patterns, their threads combining in a radiant spear of pressure.
The spear struck true.
The construct shrieked, its center cracking to reveal a pulsing shard of Uncore essence.
Beatrice didn't hesitate. She lunged forward, her blade igniting with stored heat, and plunged it through the breach.
The construct convulsed. Then shattered.
But something else happened.
The shrapnel didn't fall inert—it twisted, reforming mid-air into three smaller, more agile versions of the original.
"Split reaction!" Lira warned. "It's evolving!"
The fight reignited.
Calyx intercepted the first, using her gauntlets to pin it to the ceiling. Dasha danced through the second, disabling limbs but struggling to land a decisive blow. The third came for Clara and Lira.
"Down!" Rafael shouted, slamming a shield of thread over the two women just in time.
Beatrice moved to support Dasha, the two of them synchronizing into a blur of motion. Their blades sang.
Rafael turned his focus inward, calling on the Loom with more force than ever before. His threads thickened, forming a lattice of symbols.
The Loom pushed back.
Pain surged through him, but he pressed forward, channeling everything into a single command:
Break.
The air shimmered.
The three constructs froze mid-strike—and unraveled.
Not into dust.
Into threads.
Loose, drifting, reclaimed.
Silence fell.
Rafael gasped, staggering. Clara caught him.
"You overextended," she whispered.
"I had to."
Behind them, Stanley was already collecting the threads. "We can use these. Reforge them into wards."
"We'll need them," Lira added. "Something worse is waiting ahead."
And she was right.
As they pressed forward, the tunnel opened into a vast chamber lit by a crimson glow. Floating at its center was a colossal orb—woven from threads of flame, ash, and dark resonance. It pulsed like a heartbeat.
Rafael felt it instantly.
The next fracture.
They weren't just fighting echoes anymore.
They were fighting the future.
***