Kael, Ryn, and Vren trekked through a slum hideout, a crumbling factory buried under the Rust Slums' edge. The air stank of oil and decay, rusted pipes groaning overhead. The shard in Kael's pocket pulsed erratically, its violet leaks sparking random glitches—gears on the floor twitched, threads in the walls flickered.
Ryn adjusted her goggles, glancing at Kael. "You look like death. That shard's killing you."
"It's keeping me alive," Kael muttered, wiping blood from his lip. The Weaver's words haunted him—an entity, older than the Looms. He needed answers.
Vren knelt by a broken Loom panel, threads faintly alive. "Sit," they ordered. "You're a mess, and that shard's a beacon. We control it, or the Weavers find us."
Kael sat, the shard's glow casting shadows. "The Weaver said it binds something. What am I carrying?"
Vren's scar twitched. "The Looms weren't built by Weavers. A race—older, gone—created them to weave reality. They vanished, but something stayed. Imprisoned. Your shard might be the lock… or the key."
Kael's stomach dropped. "The Voidborn."
Vren nodded. "Your glitchweaving—it's not just power. It's tied to your bloodline. Someone in your line was one of them."
Ryn's eyes widened. "He's… part creator?"
"Part something," Vren said. "That's why the Weavers hunt him."
Kael's mind raced—his parents, scavengers, dead in a Weaver raid. Had they known? The shard flared, and a pipe above burst, steam hissing. Kael clutched his head, threads snapping into focus. He tried to weave them, but they slipped, chaotic.
Vren grabbed his wrist. "Focus. Feel the threads, not the shard. Pull gently."
Kael breathed deep, following Vren's lead. The threads steadied, the pipe's steam slowing. But a whisper cut through—*"Kael… closer…"*—the same voice from the rift.
Ryn spun, knife out. "What was that?"
The factory quaked. A rift tore open near the wall, violet and jagged, a Voidborn eye staring through. Its pupil swirled, threads of reality unraveling around it. "*Kael… free us…*"
Vren wove threads to seal it, but the rift pulsed, growing. Kael's shard burned, its crack leaking more energy. He stumbled back, Ryn steadying him. "It's targeting me," he gasped.
The rift's edges bled into the factory, threads snapping. Vren's voice was grim. "It's waking. And it knows your name."
To be continued…