The chamber beneath the temple trembled faintly, the air thick with dust and old secrets. Ahri's breath caught in her throat as she stepped forward, the golden thread around her wrist pulsing like a warning — or a summons.
Jin followed close behind, eyes narrowed, the faint blue glow of her threads casting a calm halo around her. The sealed archway before them was engraved with old markings, patterns that shifted ever so slightly when watched too long. Beneath their feet, the mosaic tiles depicted a stylized celestial loom — now cracked through its center.
"It's been disturbed," Jin whispered. "Something forced its way through."
Ahri nodded slowly, eyes fixed on a dark fissure running vertically along the doorway's seam. "Or something's trying to get out."
From behind them, the Elder descended the stairs in silence. His robes rustled softly, and he leaned heavily on his staff. He didn't speak at first, only studied the markings with a look of deep fatigue.
"This chamber is older than the temple itself," he said at last. "Built by the Spirit Weavers long before Seoul swallowed this land. It was a place for binding loose threads — and hiding what should not be unbound."
Ahri stepped closer to the doorway, fingertips hovering just above the strange sigils. The golden thread twitched against her skin.
"I saw this in my vision," she said. "When I nearly drowned. The temple, the fire… and behind it, this door."
The Elder's brow furrowed. "Then the thread brought you here for a reason. But tread carefully. Not every fate longs to be restored."
As if in answer, a sudden pulse of energy radiated from the door — not forceful, but sad, like the last gasp of something long forgotten. The stone shimmered, and for a moment, Ahri saw it not as a barrier but as a veil. Beyond it: a glimpse of something vast and shifting. Figures suspended mid-fall. Threads torn and tangled midair. A mask — familiar and cracked — drifting in silence.
Ahri stumbled back. Jin caught her, steadying her with one arm.
"What did you see?" Jin asked.
"Memories," Ahri whispered. "But not mine. Stories that were... cut short."
The Elder nodded gravely. "The Severed call this The Margin. A place where broken threads gather, waiting to be rewritten. If that seal breaks, they won't wait anymore."
A low hum rose from the chamber floor. The thread at Ahri's wrist pulled taut, and Jin's silver-blue threads shimmered defensively, reacting to something unseen. Then came the voice — faint, trembling, but unmistakable.
"You should not be here."
The three of them turned.
At the edge of the chamber, near the shadow of a collapsed pillar, stood a girl.
She looked no older than Ahri, but her eyes were far too old. Her long hair floated as if underwater, and from her fingers hung threads — severed, frayed, and twitching like dying nerves.
Ahri's breath caught. "Who are you?"
The girl tilted her head. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper. "A remnant. A forgotten stitch in a torn tapestry."
Jin stepped forward protectively, threads weaving into a defensive barrier between them. "Are you with the Severed?"
"I was," the girl replied. "Before they cast me out. Before I remembered who I was."
"Then why are you here?" Ahri asked. "Why now?"
The girl lifted her hand and pointed at Ahri's wrist.
"The fox knows. The thread around you is waking what should have stayed sleeping. The Severed follow it not to destroy you… but to catch what's chasing you."
Ahri stepped forward, her voice steadier now. "Then help us. Tell us what this place is, what they want—"
But the girl was already fading. Threads unraveled from her limbs like smoke, lifting into the air, drawn toward the door.
She gave one final look — and for the first time, Ahri saw it clearly.
The girl wore a broken fox mask.
Then she was gone.
Silence returned.
Jin reached out, touching Ahri's shoulder gently. "That was no illusion."
"No," Ahri said. "She was part of this."
The Elder turned toward the sealed archway again. "The stories held behind this door are beginning to slip through. Some will be voices. Others… will be much worse."
"Then we stop the Severed from opening it," Ahri said. "Before it's too late."
From behind the arch, a faint crack split the stone.
One line.
Thin.
And spreading.