Kael's breath caught as the elite Weaver's voice echoed through the burning slums, "Kael, the shard is known to us." The Weaver's armor pulsed with golden threads, coiling like serpents in the ash-choked air. Behind them, enforcer drones whirred, red scanners locking on the Unthreaded's skiff.
Vren grabbed Kael's arm, their scar stark in the firelight. "Run, now!"
But Kael couldn't move, the shard in his pocket leaking violet energy through its crack, burning his thigh. The Weaver raised a hand, threads tightening the air—Kael felt them, invisible, wrapping his chest. His vision glitched, reality fraying at the edges.
Ryn shoved him, breaking the spell. "Kael, snap out of it!" Her knife flashed, cutting a drone's claw as it lunged. Mira fired her pulse rifle, downing another, her cybernetic arm steady. "Move, slum boy, or we're all dead!"
Kael stumbled, the shard's energy surging. Threads shimmered—through the Weaver, the drones, the skiff's rusted hull. He grabbed a thread tied to the Weaver's armor and *twisted*, hard. The golden threads sparked, the Weaver staggering as their control faltered.
"Foolish child," the Weaver hissed, voice distorted through their visor. "That shard binds an entity older than the Looms. You'll free it—and doom us all."
Kael's blood ran cold. The Voidborn eye from the rift—its whisper, "*Kael… you wake us.*" Was that what the Weaver feared?
Vren wove threads to shield the skiff, shouting, "Go! We'll hold them!" But the shard's leak grew, violet tendrils snaking up Kael's arm. He gritted his teeth, weaving again—threads collapsed a slum tower, debris raining on the enforcers. Pain lanced his skull, blood dripping from his eyes.
Ryn and Mira dragged him to the skiff, its engines roaring. The Weaver recovered, threads lashing out, but the skiff shot forward, weaving through the Veins' tunnels. Kael slumped, the shard's glow dimming, its crack now a jagged scar.
Mira rounded on him, her wrench pointed like a blade. "You're a curse," she spat. "That glitch nearly killed us. I say we ditch him."
Ryn stepped between them, goggles glinting. "He saved us, Mira. Back off."
"Enough!" Vren barked, steering the skiff. But their eyes flicked to Tor, the wiry rebel who'd signaled the Weavers. Tor shrank under the gaze, muttering, "I… I had to. The bounty—they'd spare my sister."
Mira lunged, pinning Tor to the wall. "You sold us out for a *promise*?"
Kael's chest heaved, the shard heavy. Tor's betrayal stung, but Mira's words echoed louder. Was he a curse? The Weaver's warning, the shard's leaks—maybe she was right.
The skiff shuddered, slowing in a hidden slum crevice. Vren turned, face grim. "We split up. Mira, take half and scout. Kael, you're with me. We need to control that shard before it unravels everything."
Mira glared at Kael, her cybernetic arm whirring. "If he stays, I'm out."
To be continued…