The Skyspire's core glowed with the lost Loom's crystalline light, but Zyrath, the Voidborn entity claiming to be the creators' true heir, dominated the chamber, its violet-threaded form towering over Kael and the Unthreaded. Reality continued to unravel, the silver faction's device amplifying the chaos, threads of the world fraying—scavengers outside screamed as shacks dissolved into the void, the golden-threaded lockdown collapsing under the strain.
Kael stood, blood dripping from his nose, his gray eyes flickering violet, the shard fragments in his pocket pulsing with chaotic energy. Zyrath's voice echoed, a chorus of whispers: "The creators betrayed us, Kael. They imprisoned their own kind—us, the Voidborn—to build the Looms, to control chaos. I am their heir, not you. Join me, and we unmake their corrupt legacy."
Lira stepped forward, their golden-threaded armor shimmering, gray eyes burning with defiance. "Lies," they spat, their violet-streaked hair whipping in the chaotic wind. "The creators built the Looms to protect reality, to balance chaos and order. You're a corruption, a remnant of their failure."
Zyrath's swirling eye pulsed, violet threads lashing out, striking Lira, sending them crashing into a wall. "You, descendant, know nothing of our pain," it roared, its form shifting, threads unravelling and reforming, a storm of chaos.
Ryn, her leg still bleeding, pulled Kael back, her goggles slipping, her green eyes fierce with desperation. "Kael, don't listen to it," she urged, her voice raw, her hands trembling as she held him. "You're the heir—you've seen the visions, the creators' plan. You're enough." Her confession from the last chapter lingered, her touch a lifeline, her loyalty unwavering.
Mira and Vren fought the silver faction, who'd allied with Zyrath, their silver threads merging with violet, amplifying the unravelling. Mira's pulse rifle blazed, her cybernetic arm sparking, her scar stark as she shouted, "We're surrounded!" Vren wove green threads, shielding the group, their silver hair matted with sweat, blue eyes sharp with focus. "Kael, the Loom—use it to fight back!"
Kael turned to the lost Loom, its crystalline threads resonating with his bloodline, revealing more of the creators' history: they'd split during the war, some imprisoning the Voidborn, others—like Kael's and Lira's ancestors—hiding to protect their legacy. Zyrath was a Voidborn leader, a creator who'd embraced chaos, imprisoned to save reality. The Loom was the key—to reset everything, or destroy it.
But the silver faction struck, their threads breaching the Loom, Zyrath's power amplifying their assault. Reality collapsed faster—scavengers outside fell into rifts, the slums unravelling into nothingness. Kael wove, violet threads clashing with violet and silver, his glitchweaving stronger but more unstable, the Voidborn's influence seeping in. Pain seared through him, his vision blackening, but he held on, Ryn's words echoing: *"You're enough."*
Ryn fought to protect him, her knife slashing, but a silver thread struck her, slicing her side, blood pouring as she collapsed. "Kael…" she gasped, her goggles falling, her green eyes dimming, her hand reaching for him.
Kael's heart shattered—Ryn, his anchor, his everything. He faced a desperate choice: weave to save her, risking the city's collapse, or save the city, losing her. Zyrath's voice taunted: *"Choose, pretender… chaos or order?"* The Skyspire quaked, reality hanging by a thread, Ryn's life slipping away.
To be continued…