In the twilight of a fallen kingdom, where crowns crumble and shadows dance, a young prince ascends the throne. His coronation, a bitter symphony of loss, echoes through the marble halls. For the rebellion has painted the palace walls with blood, leaving no trace of kin but whispers of survival.

And then there's Teri—the weaver child, half-ghost, half-mortal. His existence, a riddle etched in crimson threads.Born lifeless,buried alive, he clawed his way back from the abyss, the scarlet filaments clinging to his tiny fingers like secrets whispered by the earth itself.

Teri's became the third ghostweaver in centuries. His mother, eyes wide with wonder and fear, cradled him in her arms, defying death's decree. The others fled, abandoning the babe and his spectral companions. 

The great general, Teri's father, defied the usurper king. In a hidden chamber, he revealed a box—an enigma of destiny. Three artifacts nestled within, each pulsing with purpose. "Find their owners," the general urged, entrusting the box to his daughter, Darlene. "Escape," he whispered to his wife, urging her to flee with their children.

The constables hunted, but the family eluded their grasp. Days turned to weeks, and news of the great general's demise reached Teri's mother. Alone, penniless, she remarried—a fragile alliance that would soon shatter.

Teri's stepfather despised the weaver's gift—the communion with ghosts. A poisoned pastry stole Teri's sight, but not his resolve. When his mother's screams pierced the night, Selena, his spectral sister, whispered the truth. Fury ignited within him, and the stepfather met his end. The mansion crumbled, and Teri fled with his sisters—Selena's ghost, Darlene, and Elley, the five-year-old.

Now, seventeen,Teri try to find the box that was taken away.
  As the sun kisses distant horizons, Teri embarks on a quest: to find the rightful owners, to unravel the tapestry of fate or perhaps,just perhaps,to weave a new dynasty fromthe strands of the past.

King of the former dynasty

The snowflakes fell like white feathers, covering the ground with a soft blanket. The wind howled, piercing the ears of the travelers who sought shelter in the inn. 


Mizak rushed to Teri lying on the floor, surrounded by broken furniture and shattered glass. A faint glow emanated from the sword, which had slid out of its scabbard by a few inches. 


"Teri, are you alright? What was that? I was not done!" Mizak exclaimed as he ran to Teri and helped him stand up. 


Teri smirked weakly and nodded. "I'm fine. It seems like you have to unsheathe it in an open space, not here." 


"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Selina asked Teri. 


Teri nodded. "Yes. We need to find a place where we can unleash the sword's power." 


Mizak was surprised by Teri's smirk. "Is that the smirk of pain?" 


"It's nothing. Let's just pack and go," Teri said. 


In the snow, the six travelers and the innkeeper with two of his servants rode their horses. 


Unsheathing the king's sword 2