The Weave dimmed.
Not because its light faded—but because something else rose.
A shadow.A pressure.A slow, deliberate tightening in the air, like a hand closing around a throat.
Aarinen felt it first.
A prickle down his spine.A chill under his ribs.A sense that the world had leaned closer to listen.
"The Loom is watching," Lirael whispered.
Torren flinched. "Already? We haven't even done anything yet!"
"You breathed," she replied. "Sometimes that's enough."
Rafi whimpered from the floor, somehow conscious long enough to be terrified before fainting again.
Aarinen didn't move.
His hand still rested on the pale, flickering thread—the remnant of Eryna.
The Unmarked stepped beside him.
"Let go," he said.
Aarinen didn't.
He whispered, "If I let go, the thread dims."
"It will dim regardless," the Unmarked said. "You cannot strengthen her thread alone."
Aarinen swallowed hard.
"Then what strengthens it?"
"Memory," Lirael said softly.
Saevel added, "And connection."
Rafi, somehow conscious again, squeaked, "Both things we don't have!"
The Unmarked gestured gently.
The thread resisted him—a flicker of defiance, faint but present—before settling.
Aarinen stepped back, hand trembling.
The pale thread dimmed again.But this time it held a faint echo of warmth.
"She felt you," Lirael said quietly."Even through the silence."
Aarinen stared at the fading light.
"Then I'll reach her again."
"You will," the Unmarked murmured."But not here."
He raised a hand, and the Weave rippled like disturbed water.
The world bent.
The endless threads folded inward—twisting, blurring, dissolving—until reality snapped back around them in a rush of cold air.
They stood once more in Lirael's chamber.
The rune-lit walls.The scattered books.The overturned table from the earlier confrontation.
The bodies of the cloaked intruders had vanished—erased, as though they had never existed.
Torren frowned. "I didn't move the bodies."
Lirael's jaw tightened. "The Loom did."
Rafi whimpered, "It cleans up after itself? That's horrifying."
Saevel stepped toward Aarinen, worry sharpening her eyes."You're pale."
"I'm fine," Aarinen said.
He wasn't.The imprint pulsed faintly under his skin, the memory of Eryna still echoing in his chest.
The Unmarked watched him.
"You carry too much," he said.
Aarinen met his gaze."Then teach me to carry it."
Saevel muttered, "He doesn't rest. Ever."
Torren crossed his arms. "He'll die before the next lesson at this rate."
The Unmarked ignored them.
"Today's lesson is not strength," he said. "It is survival."
Aarinen straightened. "Against what?"
"Against what follows you."
Rafi's eyes widened. "Something is following him?!"
"Not something," Lirael corrected."Someone."
The Unmarked nodded.
Aarinen felt a cold realization settle into his chest.
"The cloaked figures."
"Not them," the Unmarked said."Sends."
Saevel frowned. "Sends?"
"Agents of the Loom," Lirael translated. "Shadows given will. They hunt those whose threads defy fate."
Rafi whimpered. "They hunt him?"
"No," Torren said grimly. "They hunt anything that looks at fate the wrong way. Aarinen just looks louder than most."
Saevel stabbed the ground with her dagger."Let them try. They won't touch him."
The Unmarked met her eyes, calm but unyielding.
"They will."
Saevel tensed.
Rafi hugged his knees tighter. "Why does he say these things like the weather report?"
Torren muttered, "Because he is the weather report."
The Unmarked ignored them all.
He stepped toward Aarinen and lifted a small object from inside his coat.
A sliver of stone—smooth, dark, curved like a broken piece of a larger whole.
He placed it in Aarinen's hand.
"This," the Unmarked said, "belonged to the Keeper."
Lirael inhaled sharply."A piece of the Quiet Stone."
Saevel frowned. "The what?"
"The device the Keeper uses to erase threads," Lirael explained."Or hide them."
Aarinen's grip tightened around the shard.
"You took it."
The Unmarked did not deny it.
"It will lead you to the first fragment."
Aarinen looked up sharply."Of Eryna?"
"Of your memory," the Unmarked corrected.
Aarinen felt a flicker of hope—small but sharp.
"How?"
"It will draw toward the absence," he said.
Torren scoffed. "That means nothing."
"Absence leaves an imprint," the Unmarked explained. "A hole in fate that threads avoid. Follow the pull."
Saevel nodded slowly."So a trail of voids."
"Precisely."
Rafi gagged. "Voids… as in places where people disappear?"
"Sometimes," Lirael said quietly."Sometimes places where pieces of the world forget themselves."
Rafi fainted again.
Aarinen ignored the commotion and focused on the shard.
The stone pulsed faintly—once, twice—like a heartbeat echoing from far underground.
Aarinen whispered, "I feel it."
"Good," the Unmarked said."Because it feels you."
A chill swept through the room.
Saevel stepped forward."What do you expect us to do? Wander blindly after a stone that glows?"
"No," Lirael said."It will pull toward the nearest fracture."
Torren nodded grudgingly."And if there's a fracture nearby—"
"There is," the Unmarked said."Just outside Karathra."
Aarinen stiffened. "What kind of fracture?"
The Unmarked's expression darkened.
"A Quiet Field."
Lirael whispered, "No…"
Saevel looked between them. "Explain."
Lirael took a breath.
"It is a place where fate refuses to speak."
Rafi murmured sleepily from the floor, "That's… bad…"
Torren kicked him lightly. "Stay conscious, for once."
Lirael continued, ignoring them.
"A Quiet Field is a wound. Something severed a thread there—violently. The world does not forget such spots. It refuses to move around them. It stagnates."
Aarinen asked, "Was Eryna there?"
"No," the Unmarked said."But someone who knew her was."
Aarinen stiffened."Who?"
The Unmarked looked at him.
"A guardian."
Saevel arched a brow. "Guardian of whom?"
"Of Eryna," the Unmarked said.
"And what happened to them?" Torren asked.
The Unmarked's voice dropped.
"They were erased."
Aarinen gripped the shard harder.
"By who?"
The Unmarked turned toward the door.
"By the one who took your sister."
"And who is that?" Aarinen pressed.
The Unmarked paused.
"The Weaver."
Silence struck the room like a blow.
Even Rafi stayed conscious.
Lirael whispered, horrified, "The Weaver does not move. The Weaver does not intervene."
"He has begun to," the Unmarked said.
Saevel's jaw clenched. "Why now?"
"Because Aarinen's thread woke."
Aarinen inhaled slowly, steadying the burn behind his ribs.
"What do we do?"
The Unmarked turned toward him.
"You leave."
"Now?"
"Yes."
Saevel stiffened. "And go where?"
"To the first fracture," Lirael said softly."To the Quiet Field."
Aarinen nodded.
"But before you go," the Unmarked said, "you must know something."
Aarinen looked at him silently.
The Unmarked's pale eyes softened.Not with affection—but with recognition.
"Eryna's thread flickered when you touched it."
Aarinen nodded.
"And the Weaver felt it."
Aarinen's pulse sharpened.
The Unmarked added:
"He knows you are looking for her."
Aarinen froze.
Saevel drew her dagger again.Torren cursed under his breath.Lirael whispered a warding word.
And Rafi whimpered, "We're going to die."
The Unmarked ignored them.
He stepped close to Aarinen—close enough that his presence felt like a weight against the world itself.
"You must move before he does."
Aarinen swallowed hard.
"When do we leave?"
"Tonight," the Unmarked said."Before the sun sets."
Aarinen frowned. "Why?"
The Unmarked looked at him with an expression so grave it seemed to pull the light from the room.
"Because the Quiet Hour strengthens the Loom."He paused."And if you remain in Karathra when the sun touches the horizon—"
His voice lowered.
"—the Weaver will reach for you first."
Aarinen's breath stilled.
Saevel sheathed her dagger. "Then we leave now."
Torren grabbed his bag. "I never asked for this, but fine."
Lirael snapped her fingers and the runes in the room dimmed. "I will guide you to the city's edge."
Rafi finally stood, knees wobbling."I hate this journey. I hate fate. I hate destiny. I want to go home."
Saevel patted his shoulder. "If you live, you can."
The Unmarked stepped back, slipping into the shadow near the far wall.
Aarinen turned toward him.
"Will you come with us?"
"No."
Aarinen frowned. "Why?"
The Unmarked's expression darkened.
"Because the Weaver knows me."
Aarinen stiffened.
"And if I walk beside you now," the Unmarked said,"he will strike you through me."
The room fell utterly silent.
Aarinen nodded slowly.
"Then when will I see you again?"
The Unmarked stepped into the shadow—which thinned, expanded,and swallowed him whole.
His voice came from everywhere and nowhere.
"When your thread begins to break."
The shadows collapsed.
He was gone.
Saevel took Aarinen's arm."We don't have time to wait."
Aarinen nodded, gripping the Quiet Stone shard.
He turned toward the door.
Just as he stepped through it, a faint pulse shivered inside the shard.
A direction.
A pull.
A whisper of absence.
Aarinen whispered:
"Eryna… I'm coming."
He did not see that the pale thread in the Weave flickered faintly—not in fading,but in recognition.
A beginning.
A warning.
A promise.