The silence after the unraveling of the Weavers was not peace. It was weight.
A silence so profound, it seemed to compress thought, to stretch time itself. The Thread Key was gone, and with it, the Anchor Array's knot had been released—but the damage done to reality's seams was far from healed.
Nova stood alone at the platform's edge, staring into the hollow where the temporal spiral once spun. Around him, the walls of the chamber moaned quietly—like old bones creaking under pressure that had shifted for the first time in ages.
Behind him, Ada whispered, "We just destroyed part of the Loom."
"No," Nova replied. "We just reminded it that it can break."
*---------------------*
It took them three hours to dismantle the remnants of the Anchor Array. Veylin documented every crystal's flicker, every residual pulse of the now-dead timeline web.
In the far corner of the vault, a fractured arch of black stone pulsed faintly. Hidden behind one of the secondary control rings, it looked inert at first—until Nova touched it.
Symbols ignited across its surface. Circular runes, fractal inscriptions, and a center glyph that matched the brand now seared into Nova's palm.
Veylin leaned in. "That's not of our world. Not even from any known arcane lattice. It looks... sentient."
"It's called a Fracture Gate," Nova said quietly.
"You've seen it before?" Ada asked.
"No. But it's seen me."
*---------------*
As Nova pressed his hand to the gate, a tremor surged through the ground. Not physical—but deeper. A memory encoded into the matter of time itself. The stone liquified, then stretched outward like ink pulled from a page.
The gate activated.
Beyond it was no tunnel, no corridor—only a field of mirrors, each hanging in blackness, and each showing not reflections—but alternates.
Worlds that could have been.
Worlds that once were.
Worlds that had no right to exist.
In one, Nova stood beside a figure cloaked in gold, wearing a crown of stars.
In another, Nova lay crucified atop a spire of bones, the word "TRAITOR" carved into the sky.
Ada stepped forward. "What is this?"
Nova answered, voice low. "This is where the Weavers watched from. A pocket of untime. Their observation point."
"And the mirrors?"
"Timelines. Collapsed ones. Futures that bled too far forward and had to be rewritten."
*----------------------------------*
But one mirror was different.
It didn't show a version of Nova.
It showed a city. Massive. Floating in the sky.
A citadel built upon layers of hovering islands, wrapped in spirals of molten runes and shimmering glyphs. Towers of light twisted toward the stars, while at its center stood a colossus—neither machine nor living—a statue that pulsed with Ancient Power.
Nova stepped toward it.
"That's the capital of the First Kingdom," he whispered.
Veylin looked startled. "That's myth. It was erased in the First Collapse."
"No," Nova murmured. "It fled. Through time. And it left behind an anchor—a fragment of itself tied to the Loom."
"And the statue?"
Nova hesitated. "That's not a statue."
"What is it then?"
He stared at the colossal figure.
"It's an Ancient One. Or what remains of it."
*---------------*
Suddenly, the gate pulsed violently.
The mirror showing the First Kingdom cracked—and then glowed. A beam of energy shot from it into the chamber, striking Nova square in the chest.
He didn't scream. He didn't fall.
He simply... froze.
His mind stretched across time.
He saw the Kingdom—not in fragments, but in detail.
Its founding. Its betrayal. The war against the Ancients. The corruption seeded by those who wished to replace the Loom's design with their own chaotic script. He saw the Rending—when the kingdom was split across dimensions to hide it from its enemies.
And he saw himself—not as he was, but as a Catalyst, born from the blood of the Ancients, wielding the Loom's final script.
Nova fell backward.
Ada caught him.
"What happened?" she asked.
Nova's voice was hollow. "We're not undoing the knots."
Ada blinked. "What do you mean?"
"We're not undoing them," he repeated. "We're triggering them."
*--------------------------*
In the distance, a horn sounded.
It was not from this world.
The Gate shuddered. Its mirrors dimmed.
One remained lit.
A city in flame. A fortress consumed from within.
And above it, not a star, not a god, but an eye, larger than galaxies, watching.
Nova turned away.
"We need to leave."
"Where to?" Veylin asked.
"To the remnants of the First Kingdom," Nova said. "They tied a knot before the Collapse. One of the originals."
Ada's eyes widened. "If we find it—?"
"We might find the script," Nova said. "The one the Ancients used to bind reality before the Weavers corrupted it."
"And if we don't?" Veylin asked.
Nova didn't answer.
Instead, he closed the Fracture Gate, marking it in his memory.
Then he said only one thing.
"The war has already started. We're just catching up to it."
*---------------------------*