The temple at Halwin's Hollow had always been a sanctuary for outcasts and lost causes—but today, it became something else:
A war room.
Kiel, Riven, and the newly named Nyra stood before a projection of the Loom—a shifting, shimmering web of threads representing reality's core weave. At its center pulsed a black knot: the Null Vortex, a growing tear in the fabric of the world.
> "It's spreading faster than we thought," said Zaira, the temple's arc-seer. Her silver eyes flickered nervously. "Someone—something—is accelerating the decay."
Kiel frowned. "Venn. He's not acting alone. He's a Threadwalker—meaning there are others."
> "And they're targeting Nullborns like Nyra," Riven added. "They want to rewrite the Weave."
> "Not rewrite," Zaira corrected grimly. "Control it."
---
The air grew heavy with silence.
Riven stood, pacing. His mind raced, not from panic—but from revelation.
> "The Weaver King isn't trying to destroy reality. He wants to edit it. Make a version where he controls every fate, every outcome, every name."
Kiel crossed his arms. "That would mean the end of free will. The world would become… scripted."
> "And Nullborns," Zaira continued, "are the only beings who exist outside that script. Wild cards. Glitches. That's why they're being hunted."
Nyra sat quietly in the corner, drawing thread patterns in the dust. Each time she whispered a name, the thread lit up.
She was learning faster than anyone expected.
> "She's stabilizing," Zaira said, watching her. "But she won't stay safe here forever."
Kiel nodded. "Then we bring the fight to them."
---
Riven turned, a dangerous glint in his eye. "I want to see the Threads beneath the Loom."
Zaira raised an eyebrow. "You mean the Backweave? That's forbidden."
> "So is letting reality collapse," Riven replied.
Kiel sighed. "You're going to open it anyway, aren't you?"
Riven grinned. "Of course."
---
They descended beneath the temple into the forgotten archives—rooms carved from old starstone, flickering with time-worn sigils. Riven pressed his palm against the sealed gate. It pulsed in response to his null energy, then reluctantly creaked open.
Inside, they found what they were looking for:
A tangle of living threads, writhing across the floor like serpents.
These were the Backweave Threads—the foundation of existence. The hidden roots of all destiny.
> "Be careful," Kiel warned. "Touch the wrong one, and you could rewrite your own past."
> "Or erase yourself completely," Zaira added.
Riven reached out, but before he could touch a thread, a whisper echoed through the chamber.
> "You're not ready…"
Everyone froze.
The voice wasn't coming from around them—it was inside them.
And it didn't belong to any of them.
Suddenly, one of the Backweave Threads reared up like a cobra—and struck.
Riven caught it mid-air, barely managing to channel its energy into his arm. It seared into him like fire, etching new glyphs onto his skin.
He collapsed, gasping. "Okay… that was not my smartest idea."
Zaira checked him. "You absorbed part of the thread. That should have killed you."
> "Guess being a Nullborn has perks," he coughed.
---
Kiel helped him up. "What did it show you?"
Riven's eyes were glowing faintly—burning with a new awareness.
> "It showed me… the Weaver King's design. His plan isn't just to control the Loom. He's building a Second Weave."
Zaira went pale. "A mirrored version of reality?"
> "Yes," Riven said. "One where he's the author, editor, and god."
> "And how many Threadwalkers does he have?" Kiel asked.
Riven looked at the Backweave again.
> "Too many."
---
Back upstairs, Nyra suddenly screamed.
They rushed to her, only to see her pointing to a glowing sigil on the floor.
> "It's a portal," Zaira whispered. "But not from this plane."
A figure emerged slowly—wrapped in golden threads, face veiled by a shifting glyph-mask.
Not Venn.
Someone worse.
> "Children of the Fray," the figure said, voice like silk over broken glass. "I bring you an invitation."
> "From who?" Kiel demanded.
The figure bowed.
> "From the Weaver King himself."