47 Days Outbound
Deep space settled into a hush so profound that even the engines seemed embarrassed to break it. The Starseam Pioneer rode a continuous ion burn, needle-thin thrust carrying the yacht beyond the scattered snowballs of the Kuiper Belt toward coordinates no probe had charted. Outside the viewports, sunlight had dwindled to a bright star; inside, Dawn-Core's glow became the crew's new dawn and dusk.
Aiden spent long hours in the observation blister, tracing filament lines on a holo-map. The Loom Spirit had gone quiet after gifting the course, as if the great web itself were holding its breath. Every few days he felt the Dawn-Core stutter—like a bird sensing a distant weather front—and a tremor of unease ran down his spine.
Maya prowled the systems bay, solder-mask smeared along her cheek, coaxing the Mirror-Gauntlet to harmonize with the alien lattice scale. Each successful ping yielded fresh frequencies but also made the comm array hiss with faint interference—evidence they were entering a boundary layer of something.
Lin Xi practised slow-motion katas in the cargo hold. With each breath his Spiral Stone emitted a muted chime that resonated through bulkheads, easing shipwide headaches caused by cosmic-ray bursts. Cassie shadowed him at times, relearning balance as lingering injuries knitted beneath dawn-light therapy. Nephis kept silent watch by the dorsal window, cloak whispering against hull plating like a night breeze no one else could feel.
First Contact Echo
On day forty-seven a ripple the size of a moon rolled through the dark. Scanners read nothing—no mass, no charge, merely a sudden coherence in the vacuum itself. Dawn-Core flared indigo; the ship's lights dimmed.
Maya burst onto the bridge. "The Knot's field just brushed us. Gravity and dream-flux overlapping."Aiden steadied his breath. "Can you visualise it?""Only as negative data," she answered. "Every instrument agrees on one thing: something out there is swallowing signal like a sinkhole."
Lin Xi closed his eyes, sensing. "I feel threads twisting inward, as if the Loom were knotted tight enough to choke."
They reduced speed, drifting the last one-point-two million kilometres in silent approach. Ahead, stars disappeared into a patch of absolute black that no human optical could resolve. Around the void, auroral streamers of orange corruption flickered—Council residue still active.
Cassie whispered, "It's like a torn artery clotted round a stone."
EVA into Nothing
They decided the Pioneer would hold at ten thousand klicks; the Guardians would finish the journey in the Shadow-Skiff, a narrow dream-tech capsule designed for null-sensor regions. Nephis piloted, Dawn-Core secured at its heart.
As they glided toward the void, hull temperature fell though the displays read steady. Outside, space looked wrong—depth cues vanished, the black swallowing perspective until it felt they might already be inside the Knot.
At two hundred kilometres the skiff lurched as if snagged by invisible wire. Motors spun but no thrust registered. Aiden felt Dawn-Core throb double-time, not in fear but recognition.
"The Knot's pulling us by resonance," Maya said, awe mingled with dread.
With a jolt, the skiff tipped nose-first and slid silently into the darkness.
Inside the Knot
Sensors blanked. For thirty searing seconds they floated blind. Then interior walls lit with faint teal glyphs, the Spirit's writing at last:
"THREAD TENSION MAX. COUNCIL SEED CORE DETECTED. LOOM CANNOT ENTER. GUARDIANS ACT ALONE."
Vision cleared. They hovered in a vast cavity—space inside space—where broken dream-threads twisted like fraying cables around a central embryo of glowing iron. It pulsed sickly orange, each beat shedding sparks of corrupt code that devoured any stray filament.
Aiden's voice tremored over comms. "That's the Council's last anchor."
Cassie held her lantern forward; its beam waned only metres out, eaten by anti-resonance fumes. Lin Xi placed a hand on the hull, feeling for a pathway. "There's a single harmonic Dawn-Core hasn't sung yet—a note between grief and hope. If we can voice it, threads may re-weave and starve the seed."
Maya ran a hand over her gauntlet. "I can modulate, but we'll need a live conductor." She looked to Aiden.
Nephis released cockpit seals. "We go outside. In there, shadows still fold."
Zero-G Choral
They exited via dorsal lock. Beyond the skiff, no stars shone—only the embryo's sullen glow and the tangle of strangled Loom threads.
Lin Xi began a slow chant, Spiral Stone ringing faintly. Nephis drifted ahead, cloak fanning into blades, cutting a narrow corridor through code-sparks. Cassie stationed herself mid-line, lantern projecting a fragile ribbon of dawn for the others to follow. Maya synced gauntlet pulses to Lin's tempo, feeding the new harmonic into Dawn-Core.
Aiden, floating last, felt Dawn-Core answer. A note blossomed—soft, uncertain, yet distinct. It carried the memory of everyone they'd saved, the weight of every regret turned into strength.
The orange embryo convulsed, as if the sound pained it. Corrupted sparks recoiled. Threads nearby twitched, seeking to untwist.
Another step; the harmony grew. The embryo's surface cracked, venting dark plasma. Maya screamed a warning—velocity spikes inbound. Nephis shielded Lin, cloak sizzling where sparks hit. Cassie's lantern flickered under the torrent.
Aiden drew deeper on Dawn-Core. Energy seared nerves but he pushed, weaving the note higher until it cascaded like sunrise over coal. Light speared the embryo, lancing straight through.
With a soundless detonation, the seed fractured. Shards dissolved into motes that the Loom threads eagerly consumed, re-knitting, tightening, brightening. The cavity walls shimmered—not black now, but midnight-indigo laced with coral veins. Stars reappeared beyond the threads.
Gravity's phantom grip released; the team drifted free.
Afterglow
Back aboard the skiff, they watched the Knot shrink into a harmless nebula of knitting filaments, all orange gone.
Maya leaned her helmet against the viewport, breath fogging the visor. "Final corruption expunged. The Loom is whole through heliopause."
Lin Xi managed a smile. "And singing a chord never sung."
Cassie exhaled relief, clutching lantern to chest. Nephis stood quietly, cloak reknitting its own tattered edges in the newborn starlight.
Aiden set Dawn-Core into its cradle. The crystal glowed deeper than ever, colours layered like opal—dawn, coral, iron-blue, and now the tiniest streak of indigo night.
He closed his eyes, listening. The Loom thrummed, no longer strained. Instead of calling for help, it murmur-invited: rest, dream, create.
For the first time since Lab 2B's alarm months ago, Aiden let his shoulders unclench. "We'll take the Spirit up on that," he whispered, and plotted the long fall home.
End of Volume Two