The hills beyond the broken monolith were eerily empty.
No birdsong. No wind.Just an oppressive silence that sank into Theo's bones and refused to leave.
Nova walked beside him, her steps sure but cautious.Every few minutes, she'd pause — not to listen, but to feel, her head tilted slightly as if trying to hear threads vibrating in the air.
Theo stayed quiet. He trusted her instincts more than his own right now.
The Origin Core pulsed faintly against his chest, a steady reminder that something was wrong — not wrong like danger, but wrong like the world itself had missed a step and kept walking.
Finally, Nova stopped.
They stood at the crest of a hill, staring down into a shallow valley. From above, it looked like the earth had been torn open — long, jagged cracks running in spiderweb patterns across the ground.
Dead trees leaned over the edges, their roots clutching at empty air.
Theo swallowed hard.
"I don't like it," he said under his breath.
Nova didn't answer. She just started down the slope.
Theo followed, the loose gravel sliding under his boots.
As they reached the valley floor, the sensation hit him — a hum, deep under the skin. Like standing too close to a broken generator, humming at the wrong frequency.
He staggered, just a little, and Nova caught his elbow without thinking.
"You feel it too," she said.
Theo nodded, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"This is a faultline," Nova said softly. "A place where the threads are... bleeding through."
Theo looked around.
In the cracks, he could see flashes — like glimpses into somewhere else.Places that didn't make sense: a burned-out city under a red sky, a frozen ocean with black ships, a vast desert littered with bones.
Not visions. Not dreams.
Other possibilities.
Other worlds.
Other ends.
Theo's stomach twisted.
"This is where it started, isn't it?" he asked.
Nova's face was pale, but steady.
"One of them," she said. "There will be others."
Theo opened his mouth to say something — when the ground beneath them shifted.
A low groaning sound, like the earth itself protesting.
From the nearest crack, something crawled out.
At first, he thought it was just shadow — but then it stood upright, unfolding itself into a shape that was almost human.
Almost.
It had arms. Legs. A head.But it was too thin, too long, stitched together from strips of blackened light.
It moved in a jerking, unnatural way, like a puppet with broken strings.
Nova stiffened beside him.
"A threadwraith," she whispered.
Theo's blood went cold.
He didn't wait.
He drew the short blade from his coat, the Origin Core surging in response to his intent.
The wraith turned its head — or what passed for a head — and screeched, a sound that hit Theo like a physical blow.
He gritted his teeth and lunged.
The blade bit into the thing's side — if it even had a side — and for a second, the entire world seemed to shudder.
The wraith shrieked again, and Theo stumbled back, clutching his head.
Nova stepped in, her hands weaving through the air in a pattern Theo couldn't follow — and a pulse of silver light blasted from her palms, slamming into the wraith and knocking it backward.
For a heartbeat, it lay still.
Then it dissolved — like mist burned away by the sun.
Theo gasped for breath, heart hammering.
Nova lowered her hands slowly, watching the last of the creature fade.
"They're remnants," she said, voice tight. "Echoes of what was lost when the threads broke."
Theo wiped blood from his nose.He hadn't even realized it was bleeding.
"How many more?" he asked.
Nova didn't answer right away.
Instead, she looked around — at the cracks, at the shivering glimpses of other worlds just beyond the veil.
"Enough," she said finally. "Enough to tear this world apart from the inside."
Theo sheathed his blade with shaking fingers.
They had survived. Barely.
But the real fight was only beginning.
He looked at Nova — at the determination burning behind the fear in her eyes — and he made himself a promise:
He wouldn't let this world collapse again.
Not while he still had threads left to weave.