Night had not yet fallen, but the sky already felt heavier.
Clouds drifted slow and colorless above Karathra as Aarinen and the others crossed the outer gate. The guards barely looked at them—Lirael's presence ensured that—but the air carried a strange expectation, as if the world itself leaned forward to watch what they would do.
The shard in Aarinen's hand throbbed softly with a pulse he felt in his bones.
It tugged him southwest.
Away from the mountain road.Away from the forest trails.Toward a stretch of land most people never spoke of.
Saevel walked at his side, tense and alert.Torren behind them, muttering complaints but checking every shadow.Rafi trailed last, expression one part fear, one part exhaustion, one part resigned misery.Lirael moved like a silent compass—watching the horizon, her gaze sharp as cut glass.
Beyond the walls, the landscape opened into a cold, sweeping plain. The wind slid across it with a kind of fragile quiet, as though unwilling to disturb something sleeping beneath the soil.
Torren kicked a loose stone, then winced at the hollow echo it made."That sounded wrong."
Saevel shot him a glare. "Everything sounds wrong to you."
"No, everything in this place is wrong," Torren snapped."Fields shouldn't echo."
Rafi shivered violently. "Places where threads were cut… the world remembers."
Aarinen slowed. "What do you mean?"
Rafi rubbed his arms. "When a thread is severed—truly severed—the ground retains the wound. It aches. It repeats. Like a bruise you can hear."
Lirael nodded."That is why these are called Quiet Fields. The world does not speak here. Not properly."
Saevel muttered, "The Unmarked said a guardian knew Eryna."
"Yes," Lirael said softly."And that guardian was lost here."
Aarinen felt the shard pulse faster.
A trembling line of cold ran up his spine.
He didn't speak.He let the shard pull him.
The ground shifted beneath their feet—not literally, but perceptibly. The soil felt softer, almost too soft. The air lost its echo. Sounds dulled.
Even Torren stopped complaining.
Rafi whispered, "We're close."
Aarinen walked a few more steps, then stopped.
The shard's pulse intensified—so faint it almost wasn't there,yet insistent enough that it hurt when he ignored it.
He crouched and placed the shard on the ground.
The soil dimmed around it—as though a shadow seeped outward from the stone.
Lirael inhaled sharply."It's reacting."
Torren took a step back. "I don't like this."
No one blamed him.
Aarinen touched the soil where the stone pulsed.
Cold seeped into his hand—slow, ancient, strange.
A memory flickered.Not his own.Not yet.
A voice.Soft. Breathless. Young.
"Hide. Please hide."
Aarinen's breath caught.
Saevel knelt beside him. "What do you feel?"
He swallowed. "Something… someone… telling someone to hide."
Torren muttered, "Great. Echoes."
Lirael's eyes darkened. "Not echoes. Imprints. Strong ones remain for years."
Aarinen pressed deeper.
Another fragment surfaced.
Footsteps.Panicked.Two sets.One heavy. One light.
A child's gasp.
The sound of robes brushing earth.
A whisper:
"Run—"
Then silence.
Abrupt. Violent.Like a knife cutting sound itself.
Aarinen jerked his hand back, breath shaking.
Rafi fell to his knees. "It was a severing. A clean one. Fate took something here."
Torren asked, "Then where's the body?"
Lirael answered quietly.
"There will be no body."
Saevel's jaw clenched."The guardian was erased."
"Yes," Lirael said.
Aarinen looked across the field, searching for anything—a mark,a scar,a dent in the world.
But the Quiet Field was too quiet.Too smooth.Too calm.
"Anything that touches this place gets swallowed," Rafi whispered."Memories, footsteps, time—everything slips."
Aarinen stood.
"We need to find what remains."
Torren snorted. "Of a person erased? What will remain?"
Lirael answered: "Emotion."
Rafi whispered: "Desperation."
Saevel said, "Fear."
Aarinen said nothing.He walked.
The shard pulsed stronger when he moved left, weaker when he shifted right.
He followed the pulse.
A dip formed in the soil. Not a real dip—a visual lie. The earth seemed slightly darker, slightly sunken, even though it was perfectly level.
Aarinen approached it.
A pressure built in his ears.The air thickened.The world hushed completely.
He stepped into the center.
The field exhaled.
And the world inverted.
The Shift
Darkness.Wind.Shadows moving backward.
Aarinen staggered, bracing himself—but his feet found no ground.
He wasn't falling.He wasn't floating.
He was between.
A voice whispered.
Not Eryna's.Not his.Not the Unmarked's.
"Why did you come."
The voice did not ask—it accused.
Saevel's shout sounded distant, muffled."Aarinen!"
Torren yelled, "Grab him!"
Hands reached for him.
But the field swallowed them too.
Darkness rushed outward like unfurling cloth, pulling all of them into a circle of muted light.
They stood in a mirrored version of the field—the same landscape,but drained of color,drained of sound,drained of breath.
Rafi collapsed instantly. "Why are we here—why—what—no—"
Lirael hissed through clenched teeth, "A memory snare."
Torren groaned. "Another thing I hate."
Aarinen took a step.
The ground trembled underfoot—not physically,but emotionally.Like touching the chord of an instrument left to rot.
He whispered, "The guardian died here."
Lirael nodded once."Yes."
Saevel scanned the horizon. "Then where—"
A figure appeared.
Not walking.Not arriving.Simply forming in the center of the field.
A man.Tall.Broad-shouldered.Plain clothes.A traveler's cloak.
But his face—Aarinen's breath faltered.
He did not recognize him.Yet something struck painfully behind his ribs.
The man's eyes were dark, steady, full of a protective wrath that felt familiar.
He looked straight at Aarinen.
"You," the figure said, voice echoing through the muted air."You came late."
Aarinen stepped forward. "Who are you?"
The figure didn't answer.
Saevel lifted her dagger. "Memory or not, if it attacks—"
"It won't," Lirael said. "It can't."
The figure stared at Aarinen as though memorizing him.
Then his gaze softened.
"You were small when I last held you," he murmured."Barely able to stand."
Aarinen's chest tightened painfully.
Saevel looked at him sharply."Aarinen?"
He swallowed."I… don't know him."
Torren muttered, "That's not what your face says."
The figure turned, looking at the sky as though seeing a different day.
"She hid behind me," he whispered."I told her not to run. I told her I would keep her safe."
Aarinen's breath shook."Eryna."
The man nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Saevel moved closer to Aarinen."This was her guardian."
The man continued, "I thought I could face them. I thought my will was enough."
Aarinen stepped toward him.
"What happened?"
"Fate laughed," the man said."And I learned that laughter can hurt."
Aarinen's blood ran cold.
He whispered, "Who took her?"
The figure turned slowly.
His eyes—they were full of a sorrow that could grind mountains into dust.
"The Weaver."
The field dimmed further.
Lirael whispered, "Why? Why her? Why you?"
The guardian's expression flickered—part love, part grief, part defiance.
"Because she wasn't meant to carry silence alone," he said."She needed someone beside her."
Aarinen frowned. "Who?"
"You."
The world stilled.
Aarinen's breath hitched.
"What do you mean?"
"You were born bound to her," the guardian said."Not just as brother and sister. As halves of a truth the Loom feared."
Aarinen felt his heartbeat shake the air around him.
"What truth?"
The guardian's figure began to flicker—this memory was unraveling.
No.
Not unraveling.
Being erased a second time.
Saevel grabbed Aarinen's arm. "Ask quickly!"
Aarinen stepped closer."What truth?!"
The guardian reached out, his hand trembling.
He touched Aarinen's shoulder—warm, familiar, heartbreakingly gentle—and whispered:
"Your laughter breaks fate.""And her silence unmakes its lies."
Aarinen froze.The world froze with him.
The guardian added:
"Together… you could have undone the Weaver."
The air imploded.
The figure shattered—not into light,but into dust-like silence.
A wind of nothing tore across the field, ripping the memory apart.
Rafi screamed.
Torren cursed.
Saevel held onto Aarinen, grounding him.
The shards of silence cut through the air like glass.
And the world snapped back.
Aftermath
They stood once more in the real field.
The silence broke—slowly, achingly—as though the world had remembered it had a voice.
Aarinen gasped for breath.
His knees buckled.He dropped to the ground.
Saevel knelt beside him instantly."Breathe."
He did, barely.
Torren paced in a tight circle. "That was—horrible. Absolutely horrible."
Rafi curled into a ball. "I want to go home. I want tea. I want to not be here."
Lirael stood completely still—her expression carved in shock.
She whispered, "If the guardian spoke truth… then Aarinen and Eryna were not accidents."
Aarinen lifted his head slowly.
His voice scraped out.
"He said… we were meant to oppose the Weaver."
Saevel's eyes narrowed fiercely."Then we will."
"No," Aarinen said softly.
They looked at him.
"I will."
Torren threw his hands up. "Absolutely not! Have you seen what follows you?"
Rafi whimpered. "He has a point."
Aarinen stood—slowly, unsteadily—but with a steel in his spine that hadn't been there before.
"I have to find her."
"Yes," Saevel said, standing beside him."We do."
Aarinen met her gaze.
Her determination.Her loyalty.Her defiance.
She wasn't asking.She wasn't offering.
She was choosing.
Aarinen swallowed the burn behind his eyes.
"Thank you," he whispered.
She shook her head. "Don't thank me yet. We haven't found her."
Lirael stepped forward.
"The shard will pull again," she said."Deeper, toward the second fracture."
Torren groaned. "There's more of this?"
Rafi sobbed. "Of course there is."
Aarinen tightened his grip on the shard.
It pulsed again—slow, steady, stronger than before.
A direction.A path.A promise.
He whispered:
"Eryna…I won't be late again."
The wind stirred.
Not natural wind—a breath from the Weave itself.
The shard glowed faintly.
And somewhere, deep within the Loom's guarded silence—
A pale thread trembled.And answered.