Silence filled the Hall of Weaving.
Nobody spoke.
Nobody even seemed to breathe.
Kael remained staring at the shimmering reflection in the basin.
His soul floated above the water.
Silver Threads.
Broken black Threads.
Countless fractures.
It looked less like a soul...
And more like something that had survived a catastrophe.
"...Is that..."
Finn's voice barely rose above a whisper.
"...really his soul?"
Elder Mira nodded.
"It is."
Lyra stepped closer.
Her emerald eyes never left the reflection.
"I've never seen anything like it."
"Neither have I."
Master Arlen admitted.
"I've spent forty years studying Soul Threads."
His voice carried equal parts awe and disbelief.
"I believed the Academy understood them."
He looked toward Mira.
"It seems we only understood the shadows."
The Elder smiled gently.
"The Kingdom measures rivers..."
She placed one hand against the Heartroot.
"...without ever asking where they begin."
Kael barely heard them.
He couldn't stop staring.
His entire life...
People had pitied him.
Rejected him.
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Dismissed him.
Not because he lacked talent.
But because no one had ever truly seen him.
His gaze drifted toward the broken black Threads.
Some ended abruptly.
Others were tied together by impossibly tiny knots.
Many simply floated loose.
Like pieces of a tapestry torn apart by violence.
"They're..."
Kael swallowed.
"...still breaking."
Mira looked surprised.
"You can feel them?"
Kael nodded slowly.
"When I look at them..."
He placed a hand against his chest.
"...it hurts."
The Elder's expression softened.
"Of course it does."
"Why?"
She looked toward the shimmering weave.
"Because your soul remembers."
Kael frowned.
"My soul remembers what?"
For several moments...
Mira didn't answer.
Instead, she gently reached into the floating Threads.
Her fingers passed through them without disturbing a single strand.
Almost as though the weave welcomed her touch.
Then—
She pointed toward one of the shattered black Threads.
"Watch carefully."
The Thread pulsed once.
A tiny fragment broke away.
Instead of falling...
It dissolved into hundreds of tiny lights.
Kael gasped.
The lights gathered above the basin.
Then—
A memory appeared.
Not words.
Not sound.
A memory.
A little boy laughed as he chased butterflies through a field of flowers.
His mother smiled nearby.
His father waved from a wooden fence.
Peace.
Warmth.
Love.
Then darkness.
Smoke.
Fire.
A monster's roar.
The memory shattered.
The lights disappeared.
Kael staggered backward.
"What..."
Finn stared wide-eyed.
"We all saw it."
Master Arlen slowly nodded.
"Thread Memory."
He whispered.
Lyra looked toward Mira.
"You can see memories inside Souls?"
The Elder gently shook her head.
"No."
"Only memories carried by damaged Threads."
Silence returned.
Kael stared at the basin.
"That wasn't my memory."
"No."
Mira replied.
"It belonged to someone long gone."
The words settled heavily inside the chamber.
"So every Thread..."
Finn whispered.
"...contains a life?"
"An echo."
Mira corrected gently.
"Not the soul itself."
"Only its journey."
Kael slowly looked toward the enormous Heartroot surrounding them.
"So..."
He hesitated.
"The Heartroot remembers everyone?"
Mira smiled.
"As much as it can."
"Nothing remembers perfectly."
"Not even the Great Loom."
That name again.
Kael looked up.
"You've mentioned the Great Loom several times."
The Elder nodded.
"Because everything begins there."
Master Arlen quietly folded his arms.
Even he looked eager to hear the answer.
"The Kingdom teaches that Soul Threads simply exist."
Mira said.
"Our ancestors knew better."
She looked upward.
Far beyond the ceiling.
Beyond the roots.
Beyond the world itself.
"They are woven."
Lyra frowned.
"By who?"
Mira smiled sadly.
"A question every generation asks."
She turned toward Kael.
"And one you will eventually answer."
Before Kael could respond—
The basin rippled violently.
Everyone looked down.
The water darkened.
Silver Threads recoiled.
Black mist spread across the surface.
Mira's smile disappeared instantly.
"No..."
Master Arlen stepped forward.
"What happened?"
The Elder stared into the basin.
Her normally calm voice carried genuine fear.
"Someone..."
The black water trembled.
"...has entered the Deep Roads."
Sera immediately reached for her bow.
"Impossible."
"They're sealed."
"They were."
Mira corrected.
Another ripple spread through the basin.
A second image formed.
Not a memory.
A vision.
A colossal stone corridor stretched endlessly into darkness.
Ancient pillars lined either side.
Every pillar wrapped in black Threads.
A lone figure walked through the corridor.
Cloaked.
Face hidden.
Gray Threads coiled around his body like chains.
Kael's heart stopped.
He knew those Threads.
The man from the archives.
The Circle.
The cloaked figure slowly stopped walking.
As though sensing he was being watched.
Then...
He looked directly toward them.
Toward the basin.
Toward Kael.
A slow smile spread beneath the hood.
He raised one hand.
The vision shattered.
The basin exploded into darkness.
Silver Threads scattered throughout the chamber before slowly settling again.
Nobody spoke.
Finally...
Mira whispered words that made even Master Arlen go pale.
"They've found the Deep Roads."
Kael frowned.
"The Circle?"
The Elder nodded once.
"For thousands of years..."
She looked toward the endless roots surrounding Heartroot.
"We believed we were guarding the ancient paths."
Her voice became quiet.
"It seems..."
"...someone has been walking them already."
Far beneath the Underforest...
Beyond Heartroot.
Beyond the sealed gates.
Deep inside a forgotten city swallowed by darkness...
The cloaked man lowered his hand.
Gray Threads curled around his feet.
Before him stood an enormous black door.
Its surface was covered in ancient seals.
Most remained intact.
One...
Had begun to crack.
The man smiled.
"So..."
he whispered into the darkness,
"The Child of the Promise has finally arrived."
From beyond the door came a single, slow knock.
The Deep Roads had awakened.
And someone else had already begun their descent.