Outside, the wind howled through the mountains. Lightning split the sky, and Arian felt the pull of destiny, stronger than ever. The threads were alive, the portal was dangerous, and Orios was coming.
And he was not ready—not yet.
But he would be.
---
The northern pass lay in eerie silence the morning after their retreat. Arian's body ached from the previous battle, his hands still tingling from the fifth thread's violent surge. Yet the exhaustion was secondary to the gnawing sense of anticipation that clawed at his chest. Orios was near. He could feel it—an oppressive presence lingering just beyond sight, like a shadow stretching across the mountains.
Lianna walked beside him, her eyes scanning the treeline, every muscle coiled and ready. Sera was a few steps behind, silent, analyzing every movement, her mind a blade slicing through possibilities. Maera, the quiet assassin, moved in the rear, nearly invisible, watching for threats Arian couldn't yet perceive.
---
A sudden tremor ran through the earth. Stones dislodged from the mountainside, cascading down in chaotic torrents. The air thickened with a reddish glow, the same as the portal they had seen. Arian's threads flared instinctively, tracing patterns in the air as though responding to a call he could neither understand nor resist.
"Get ready," Lianna whispered, her hand on the hilt of her sword. "This isn't a shadow—it's him."
And then he appeared. Orios stepped from the portal, his eyes glowing like molten blood, the aura of power radiating from him distorting the air. The ground beneath him cracked, shadows twisting into serpentine forms around his feet.
"You've grown stronger, boy," Orios said, voice like gravel and silk combined. "But strength alone will not save you. Not from me."
Arian swallowed, heart hammering. He clenched his fists, threads glowing faintly along his veins. He had survived shadows, fought with Lianna, Maera, and even felt the fifth thread awaken—but this was different. This was a being who had stolen time itself, a man whose mastery over threads and fate could twist reality.
---
The first strike came like a hurricane. Orios moved faster than Arian's eyes could follow, a blur of crimson energy and shadows. Threads collided, sparks exploding as red lances of power met Arian's defenses.
Lianna lunged to intercept, but Orios brushed past her, sending a shockwave of dark energy that sent the ground shattering beneath them. Arian reacted instinctively, threads flaring, forming shields, traps, and blades simultaneously. Each movement felt guided by a force outside himself—the fifth thread pulsing violently, aware, almost sentient.
"Faster… think faster!" Sera's voice cut through the chaos, cold, precise.
Arian nodded, letting the fifth thread extend further than ever. Time itself seemed to shudder. Shadows slowed, movements stretched, and for a brief heartbeat, Arian could anticipate every strike, every dodge. He countered with a flurry of thread strikes, slicing through Orios's summoned minions, though not touching Orios directly—he was always just out of reach, like a ghost.
---
The battle became a dance of survival and strategy. Arian's mind spun with calculations and instinct, every strike of the fifth thread leaving a faint scar of energy in the air. Orios watched, smiling faintly, almost as if enjoying the challenge.
"You have the thread," Orios said mid-strike, his eyes piercing Arian's. "But you do not understand it. Power without control is death."
Arian's pulse raced. "I… I will learn," he shouted, launching a thread-lance that cut through shadows like a scythe. The fifth thread responded unpredictably, striking not where he aimed, but where the threat was greatest. The strain was immense. Each second stretched into eternity; each movement risked tearing his body apart.
Lianna fought beside him, her strikes precise, lethal, but even she could not reach Orios. Maera and Sera coordinated silently, creating openings, distractions, and traps—but Orios's power warped every expectation. The battlefield seemed alive, bending to his will.
---
Then came the first major blow. Orios lashed out, crimson energy connecting with Arian's chest. The impact threw him backward, skidding across jagged stone. Pain exploded in his chest, and he saw stars. The fifth thread pulsed violently, almost screaming, trying to protect him, stabilize him, guide him.
"You… will not survive," Orios said softly, approaching him with terrifying calm. "Not yet. But you will remember."
The world seemed to slow. Arian's vision fragmented—three timelines appeared before him simultaneously: one where he fell, one where he struck back, and one where Lianna was struck instead. Panic surged. His mind raced. How could he act when reality itself fractured?
Then he heard it: a faint, steady heartbeat inside him, the fifth thread. A whisper: *Focus. Control. Use me.*
Drawing a deep breath, Arian let the fifth thread extend fully, merging with the four others. Crimson lines laced across his body, forming a living network of energy. He rose, every movement precise, every strike guided by instinct and thread consciousness. The threads lashed out in a perfect sequence, striking Orios's shadows, cutting openings, forcing Orios back.
---
Orios paused, tilting his head slightly, eyes narrowing. "Interesting… the forbidden thread awakens."
For the first time, Arian saw uncertainty in Orios's gaze. He pressed the advantage, threads weaving through the battlefield, slicing, binding, and shielding. But the effort came at a cost—the threads burned his veins, his vision flickered, and the strain threatened to overwhelm him.
Lianna called out, rushing to his side, her hand brushing his shoulder. "Arian! Don't push yourself too far!"
"I… can't stop now!" he gasped. "Not when he's here!"
The confrontation ended abruptly. Orios withdrew into shadows, leaving a trail of crimson energy and smoke. His laughter echoed through the mountains.
"You survived… barely. But remember this, boy: the threads are alive. They will guide you… but they will also betray you. And when you are weakest, I will return."
---
Arian collapsed, chest heaving, sweat and blood mixing on his skin. The fifth thread hummed faintly, as if satisfied, yet ominous. Lianna helped him to his feet, her eyes worried, but something unspoken passed between them—a mixture of fear, respect, and… something deeper.
Kaelor and Sera arrived moments later, faces grim. Kaelor's voice was low, heavy.
"This was your first real encounter with Orios," he said. "You survived, but understand—he is no ordinary adversary. He has stolen the essence of time itself. The threads alone may not be enough. You must master them… or risk annihilation."
Arian nodded, exhaustion giving way to determination. Pain and fear were temporary. Power, threads, destiny—they were his now. And one day, he would confront Orios again, not as a boy unsure of his path, but as a master of his threads, of time, and of fate itself.
Outside, the northern pass trembled, the red portal pulsating ominously. The threads inside Arian pulsed in return, alive, aware, whispering a promise: *This is only the beginning.*
---