The air tore.
Not from sound.
From will.
The Cradle shuddered as the being of fate struck. It moved like a broken thought—jagged, stuttering, ancient.
Cael barely raised a shield of threadlight in time.
It shattered.
Vyn screamed, throwing herself to the side as a pulse of unraveling surged across the ground, turning solid stone into flickering memory.
The Cradle was coming undone.
And the Warden of the First Loom was the cause.
The Fight
Cael didn't fully understand what the Warden was.
Not a god.Not a memory.Something in between.
Something meant to prevent people like him from ever standing here.
Its arms were ink.Its mouth stitched with thread.Its form changed each time you blinked.
"You were never supposed to be born," it rasped as it struck again.
Cael ducked, threads wrapping around his legs, using the Loom's influence to bend space. He reappeared behind the Warden, slashing with a threadblade of raw memory.
The blade bit in.
Black ichor hissed.
But the Warden laughed.
"Even your pain is stolen."
Cael gritted his teeth. "Then I'll make it mine."
⚔ The Turning Point
The Cradle was reacting to Cael's defiance. Every time he dodged, countered, or defied the Warden's will, the Loom shivered.
Its threads reached for him—not to restrain—but to join.
Cael suddenly understood.
The Loom didn't want to be guarded.It wanted to be used.And it had waited centuries for someone reckless enough to do it.
"Vyn!" he shouted. "Sing."
"What!?"
"The Hymn of Thread! From the Library of Nothra!"
She hesitated… then began.
Her voice cracked at first. But the words were stitched into her blood. Ancient. Divine.
As she sang, the threads around Cael ignited.
Not flame.Not light.Truth.
The Warden reeled.
"You don't understand what you're invoking!"
Cael stepped forward. Loom-thread weaving around his fingers, burning symbols into his arms.
"I understand this," he whispered. "This world belongs to no god. No pattern. Not anymore."
"You dare rewrite fate—?"
"No. I dare to start a new one."
He drove the blade into the Loom.
The world screamed.
What Happens Next
Reality fractured.
For a moment, Cael saw every possibility:
A world where he died in the pit.
A world where Vyn never followed him.
A world where the Hollow Prince ruled unchecked.
A world… where no gods ever existed.
He chose none.
He chose his own.
And the Loom obeyed.
The Warden's body unraveled, strands drifting upward like forgotten ink in wind. As it faded, it whispered:
"You are the first… of the Last Pattern."
Then silence.
The Cradle stood empty.
The Loom was no longer sealed.
And Cael… was something new.
Vyn walked to him, voice shaking.
"You broke it."
Cael nodded. "No more chains."
"What now?"
He looked up.
The sky above the Cradle had changed.
The stars formed a path.
"We begin again."