The cold wind of the highlands whistled like the whisper of forgotten regrets.
Kael stood atop the ridge, golden thread now tied around his left wrist. It pulsed faintly—not with power, but with awareness, as if it were listening to the world breathe.
Behind him, the Loom watched in silence. The others—Lira, Veyna, Ashara—rested near the sanctuary's inner gardens, yet none of them truly slept. The presence of the Shade of the Fifth had shaken them all.
Kael turned slowly. "He was afraid."
The Loom nodded. "Shades are reflections. They only exist when there's something real to cast them."
Kael narrowed his eyes. "So Riven is real. Still. Alive."
"He's more than alive," she replied. "He is embedded—woven through the minds of those who suffer but cannot grieve. Those who obey but no longer believe. The ones whose hearts ache… but who no longer know why."
He clenched his fists. "Then how do we stop something that isn't fully here?"
The Loom walked forward, raising a hand toward the rising sun.
"You find the rest of the Fractures."
They left the sanctuary at dawn.
The Loom gave them no map—only a whisper: "Follow the places where silence grows loud."
Kael understood it instinctively. Places where truth had been suppressed. Where memory had been rewritten. Where grief had gone feral.
Their first destination lay north, beyond the Petrichor Valley. A place once called Nirael Hollow—once sacred, now sealed.
Veyna walked beside him, gaze distant. "If what she says is true, then we're not alone."
Kael nodded. "The Fractures. Others like me."
Ashara grimaced. "Others who can tear the Pattern apart? That's not comforting."
"No," Lira replied from behind. "But it's necessary. If the Pattern's been infected by Riven's lies, we need to unweave it. Thread by thread."
Kael's eyes burned. "And we need to do it before Riven weaves a new loom. One made not of truth—but of obedience."
The journey through the valley was difficult.
Time felt warped. Shadows lingered where they shouldn't. Sounds echoed without source.
And then—at dusk—they found her.
She stood beneath a shattered tree, blindfolded, humming a lullaby.
She was no older than Kael, with pale hair streaked black at the ends and hands stained with ink. Around her neck hung a broken spindle.
Kael approached cautiously. "Are you a Weaver?"
She smiled. "I was."
"You're a Fracture now."
Her smile faded.
"Yes."
The others kept their distance, watching.
Kael lowered his voice. "What's your name?"
"Saerin."
The name echoed strangely through the valley, as if the land itself remembered her.
"I heard your question," she said quietly. "From across the Pattern. When you asked the Shade why he was afraid... I felt it."
Kael's throat tightened. "So you know what we're facing."
She nodded.
"I know what Riven did. I saw it. I survived it."
That night, by firelight, Saerin told her story.
Once a prodigy Weaver of the Shape of Sorrow, she had dared to question the erasure of the Fourth Shape from history. For that, she was exiled—stripped of her spindle, blinded by threads soaked in forgetting dust.
But grief had memory stronger than magic.
And when Kael's golden thread was awakened… she remembered everything.
"They told us we were protecting the world," she said, voice cracking. "But we were just editing it. We cut away pain. And left behind people who couldn't mourn their dead. Whole cities of smiling masks."
She looked at Kael with hollow eyes.
"You think you're here to fight Riven. You're wrong."
Kael tensed. "Then why am I here?"
"To let the world cry again."
As dawn approached, Kael stood alone once more.
He understood now what the Loom meant.
The Fractures weren't warriors. They weren't rebels. They were wounds. Conscious, moving wounds. Carriers of truth too painful to forget.
And with every Fracture awakened, the Pattern would ripple.
Riven wasn't building an army. He was building a dam—to hold back the flood of memory, the tide of grief.
Kael looked down at the thread on his wrist.
He whispered, "I won't be your weapon, Riven. But I'll be your undoing."
Behind him, Saerin approached.
"I know where the next one is."
Kael turned. "Another Fracture?"
She nodded.
"In the heart of the Whispering Mines. Buried in silence so deep… even screams can't echo."
Kael drew a deep breath, then nodded.
"Then that's where we go."