The morning sun rose gently over the healed field, casting golden light across the damp grass. It was quiet in a way the world hadn't been in days, no whispers, no screaming winds, just the hush of new beginnings.
Liora sat beside Tomas, her fingers brushing the blades of grass as if to reassure herself it was real. Her limbs ached, her soul felt threadbare, but she was alive.
Across the field, Ysolde stood still as stone. Her long silver hair lifted slightly in the breeze, but she didn't move. Her eyes wise, weathered and worn were fixed on the horizon.
Liora rose slowly, her legs shaky beneath her. Each step felt heavy, like the earth still held part of her in that rift. But the fire within her had not gone out. It was quieter now, no longer burning her from within, but warm and steady, like coals beneath ash.
She approached Ysolde in silence.
"I thought I'd lost you," Ysolde said without turning.
"You almost did," Liora whispered.
Ysolde turned her gaze then. Her eyes were damp, though no tears fell. "What you did, it should've killed you."
"It nearly did."
"You look different."
"I feel different."
Ysolde nodded, as if she'd known this would happen all along. "The Veil is whole again, but not untouched. The wound left a scar. Just like it did in you."
Liora glanced over her shoulder at Tomas, who was gathering what little they had. "We've still got work to do."
Ysolde's lips pressed into a line. "Yes. The rift may be sealed, but the corruption had roots deeper than we knew. The threads weren't just fraying, they were being severed."
"What could do that?" Liora asked.
Ysolde looked toward the mountains in the distance, where a ridge split like a jagged mouth. "There's something we never told you. Something hidden beneath the Temple's ruins."
Liora tensed. "The Temple?"
Ysolde nodded. "The Temple of Threads. Where the first weaving began."
Tomas joined them then, slinging his pack over his shoulder. "What's at the Temple?"
Ysolde's eyes narrowed. "A secret kept too long."
They set off, leaving the meadow behind. The journey was harder now. The land had begun to heal, yes, but not all wounds knit cleanly. Patches of earth still bled shadow. The trees stood crooked, unsure of themselves. Magic pulsed underfoot, weak and confused.
They traveled in silence for hours until the land began to change.
The hills sloped sharply downward, and the earth turned dark and metallic. Dead trees clawed at the sky. At the base of the final hill, the ruins of a great gate came into view.
It had once stood proud, ancient symbols carved into its stone arch. But now it was shattered split down the middle like it had been struck by lightning from within.
A cold wind blew from the opening beyond it.
"The Temple's Mouth," Ysolde said quietly. "We're here."
Liora stepped closer, brushing her fingers across the broken stone. She felt a vibration run up her arm. Something stirred in the deep.
Tomas bent to examine the rubble. "This place was sealed."
"Sealed for a reason," Ysolde said.
She raised her staff and murmured words in a language older than the Veil itself. The symbols on the stone pulsed once with golden light.
And the ground began to shake.
A low rumble echoed from below, and with a groan like something ancient waking, the earth split just beyond the gate. A narrow stairway revealed itself, spiraling down into darkness.
Liora exchanged a glance with Tomas. He gave a short nod.
Together, they descended.
The stairwell was tight, carved into the stone itself. It smelled of dust, old blood, and forgotten things. The air grew colder with each step. The light of their lanterns flickered against the damp walls.
Finally, they reached a vast chamber.
It was circular, its domed ceiling held up by columns shaped like woven threads. At the center of the room was a pedestal and resting atop it, pulsing with faint light, was a piece of the Veil.
Liora gasped.
It looked like fabric, but it floated, suspended in the air, shimmering with threads of silver and blue. A living weave, breathing with silent magic.
"It's part of the original Veil," Ysolde said, her voice reverent. "It was cut away and hidden here to protect it from them."
"Them?" Tomas asked.
Ysolde moved forward slowly, her eyes locked on the piece of Veil. "There was once a group who believed the world should never have been woven. That life itself was a mistake. They called themselves the Severed."
Liora's heart quickened. "Like the ones in the Hollow Wind. The ones whispering through the rift."
"Yes," Ysolde said harshly. "The Severed have waited for centuries. Feeding on pain. Waiting for the Veil to thin and now they're waking."
Liora stared at the fragment. It was beautiful but it also felt wrong here, like something sacred kept locked in a cage.
"Why hide it?"
Ysolde hesitated. "Because it's not just a piece of the Veil. It's a key."
"A key to what?"
Ysolde turned to her, eyes dark with memory. "To the heart of the Loom. Where all magic was first born. Where the world's first thread still burns."
Liora felt the fire within her respond, flickering. "It's calling to me," she whispered.
"I know," Ysolde said. "Because you carry the First Flame and it remembers this place."
Tomas stepped closer to the pedestal, frowning. "Why now? Why show us this?"
"Because," Ysolde said, "the Severed have found another way in."
Liora's breath caught. "Where?"
"There's another breach," Ysolde said, her voice tight. "Hidden beneath the Temple itself. If they reach the Loom, if they sever the first thread it won't just break the Veil. It will unmake everything."
The chamber fell silent.
Liora stepped forward, drawn to the fragment. Her fingers hovered inches from it.
"What do we do?"
Ysolde's voice was low. "We go deeper. We find the breach. We stop them."
"And the key?" Tomas asked.
Ysolde turned to Liora. "She takes it. It's bound to her now."
Liora's hand trembled as she reached out. The moment her fingers brushed the weave, it dissolved into light and sank into her palm.
She gasped. Visions flooded her mind.
A loom vast as a sky, threads woven by invisible hands, stars being born from strands of gold and in the center of it all a thread wrapped in fire, pulsing with ancient power.
The First Thread.
She staggered back, breathless.
Tomas caught her.
"You okay?" he asked, his voice tight.
Liora nodded slowly. "It showed me everything. The Loom. The beginning."
"What now?" Tomas asked.
Ysolde raised her staff. "Now we find the Temple's heart."
They moved through a narrow passage beyond the chamber, deeper into the Temple's belly. The air grew thicker, humming with energy. The walls pulsed faintly, veins of silver magic running through stone.
Then they heard it. A sound like weeping and beneath it laughter. Mocking ,hollow, inhuman.
They entered a wide corridor, and at its end, a fracture glowed with sickly red light.
"The new breach," Ysolde said harshly.
Darkness moved behind the light. Shapes. Figures not quite real.
Tomas drew his blade. "What are they?"
"The Severed," Ysolde whispered. "They've crossed halfway through."
Liora stepped forward.
The fire within her blazed.
She raised her hand and the fragment of the Veil reformed in the air before her, a barrier of shimmering thread.
The Severed screamed. The Veil held for now.
Ysolde placed a hand on her shoulder. "You can hold them back. But we must close the breach."
"How?" Liora asked, her voice shaking.
Ysolde looked to the floor where a circle of ancient runes glowed faintly.
"A ritual. One last binding."
Tomas moved beside them. "What do you need?"
"Time," Ysolde said. "And strength."
They began the ritual. Ysolde chanted in the Old Tongue, weaving magic with her staff. Tomas held the line, blade flashing against creeping shadows. And Liora stood at the center of the circle, the Veil's fragment glowing above her.
The Severed screamed. The ground trembled. The air cracked.
But Liora stood firm.
She drew the First Flame from within her, let it wind through the thread, let it burn the corruption without destroying the weave.
It hurt. It cost her.
She felt her memories unraveling, parts of herself burning away.
But she did not stop, she could not.
The breach began to close.
The Severed howled and fell back, dragged into the void between worlds.
The light flared and then faded.
Silence fell. The circle dimmed.
Liora collapsed to her knees, shaking.
Tomas rushed to her. Ysolde sank beside them, tears streaking her face.
"It's done," Ysolde whispered. "The heart is safe."
Liora leaned into Tomas, every breath an effort. "For how long?"
Ysolde looked to the flickering runes. "That depends on what we do next."
Liora nodded slowly.
The Veil was mended. The Loom was safe.
But the Severed still lingered in the shadows.
And the final battle had not yet begun.