Choice was never meant to be peaceful.
It is a flame with two edges—warming one side, searing the other. And while many welcomed the new thread, lifting their names from ash and speaking truths they thought lost...
Others chose differently.
Not out of ignorance.
But out of comfort.
The Codex had given them a singular story. It had shaped their identity with clean lines, logical order, and no space for contradiction. And now, that story was being split.
They called themselves The Singular.
And they wanted the world back.
Echoes of Control
It began in the city of Brymwall.
Codex-towers flickered, then flared back to life—not in gold, but pale white. Dozens of citizens who had accepted the Choice-Weave awoke to find their threads burned clean.
Empty.
Erased again.
A message followed—broadcast in sharp, even tones:
"We remember one version. We defend one history. We are Singular."
In the ruins of a former Codex cathedral, a woman in white robes addressed a gathering.
Her name was Severa, and once, she had been one of the Codex's chief architects.
Now, she was its blade.
"The fire of choice is chaos," she said. "Order is truth. Truth is Singular."
Behind her, white-threaded soldiers stood silent, eyes blank, minds aligned to a core directive.
Restore the Codex.
Rien's Warning
In Caldrith Spire, news came swiftly.
Flamebearers from the eastern coasts reported missing memories.
Thread-forges sabotaged.
Choice-weaves targeted.
Rien stood at the Loom again, brow furrowed, hands tight at her sides.
"They're not just rejecting choice," she said. "They're hunting it."
Elyra's voice was cold. "We should've expected it. Some people would always prefer a single truth."
Tessen stepped forward, worn but calm. "Then we offer a third path."
Vel arched a brow. "A warpath?"
"No," Tessen replied. "A firewall."
The Threadwall
Tessen and Maerai began crafting a new weave—The Threadwall.
A boundary not of memory, but of consent.
Any who accepted the Choice-Weave would be protected—memories locked by the bearer's own will. Not immune to editing, but resistant to theft. A memory sealed by fire and intention.
But to seal a story… you must sacrifice part of it.
One Flamebearer gave up her name to protect her village.
Another surrendered the memory of his father's last words, locking it beyond Singular reach.
Rien watched it happen, feeling the weight behind every choice.
"We're giving them tools to fight," Kaelen said beside her.
"No," she murmured. "We're giving them a chance to be."
Severa Moves
In a hidden chamber of the last remaining Codex core, Severa placed her hand on the central thread-nexus.
Behind her, a dozen young Singular initiates knelt.
She drew a thread of pure white.
No name.
No memory.
Just command.
"Burn the lanterns."
"Seal the rebels."
"Reclaim the Loom."
Her eyes gleamed.
"There will be one truth."
The Spark Before the Fire
That night, one of the eastern lanterns—the oldest in Varnes—was shattered.
A threadweaver disappeared.
A child who had spoken her grandmother's name for the first time lost it again.
Rien held the broken lantern in her hands.
And her voice, soft and sharp, echoed across the Loom chamber:
"This time, we won't fight for power."
"We'll fight for remembrance."