Kael stood in the Unthreaded's hideout, the hollowed Loom's walls humming faintly under his fingertips. The chamber buzzed with tension, rebels eyeing him like a bomb about to blow. Vren, scar glinting in the flare's green glow, pointed to a rusted device embedded in the wall—a Loom shield generator, its threads frayed and dark.
"Fix it," Vren said. "Show us you're not just a walking glitch."
Kael's stomach twisted. The shard in his pocket pulsed, warm and heavy, but his nose still stung from the blood he'd wiped away after the Veins. Glitchweaving was tearing him apart, and now these rebels expected miracles.
Mira leaned against a pipe, her cybernetic arm whirring as she tossed her wrench. "He'll fry us all," she muttered, loud enough to sting. "Slum boy's got no control."
"Shut it, Mira," Vren snapped, but their eyes stayed on Kael. "Focus. Weave the threads."
Kael gripped the shard, its faint glow casting shadows. Threads shimmered—through the generator, the Loom's walls, the rebels' wary stares. He reached for a thread, thin and flickering, and pulled gently. The generator sparked, a low hum rising.
Mira snorted. "That's it?"
Kael's jaw clenched. He grabbed a thicker thread, twisting it. The hum grew, lights flickering overhead. The rebels stepped back, murmurs rising. But something felt off—the thread resisted, taut like a snare.
A surge erupted. Sparks flew from the generator, and the chamber's lights strobed wildly. Rebels shouted, scrambling for cover. Kael's vision blurred, the shard scorching his hand. He saw it—Mira's wrench, wedged in the generator's casing, threads tangled around it. Sabotage.
"You did this!" Kael roared, lunging toward her.
Mira dodged, smirking. "Prove you're worth keeping, rat."
Vren grabbed Kael's arm. "Fix it, now!"
Kael's heart pounded. The generator whined, threads unraveling. If it blew, the hideout would be exposed. He dove for the shard's power, threads snapping into focus. He wove them—fast, sloppy, desperate—rerouting the surge. Pain lanced his skull, but the generator stabilized, lights steadying.
The rebels exhaled, stunned. Mira's smirk faded, her eyes narrowing. "Lucky break," she muttered, but her tone held a grudging nod.
Vren clapped Kael's shoulder. "You're one of us, kid. We need that power to hit a Weaver Loom—take their control."
Before Kael could process, the hideout's door slammed open. Ryn stumbled in, goggles smudged, her scavenged jacket torn. "Kael, you idiot!" she yelled, storming toward him. "You ditched me for *this*?"
Kael froze, guilt hitting hard. "Ryn, I—"
She punched his arm, eyes blazing. "I tracked you through the slums. Weaver ship landed—big one, near the Veins. They're hunting you."
The rebels tensed, hands on weapons. Vren's scar twitched. "How close?"
"Too close," Ryn said, glaring at Kael. "He's a magnet for trouble."
Kael met her gaze, the shard heavy in his pocket. She was right, but her being here—loyal despite his mess—lit a spark in him. "I'm not running," he said.
Vren nodded. "Good. We move tomorrow—sabotage their Loom, cut their threads. Kael's our edge."
Mira scoffed, but a faint beep cut through the chamber. A rebel, a wiry kid named Tor, slipped a communicator into his pocket, eyes darting. Kael caught it—a coded signal, sent to someone outside.
Vren didn't notice, but Kael's gut churned. Someone was selling them out. And with Weaver ships closing in, they were out of time.
To be continued…