Chapter 23: The Unraveling Past
Kazama fell through endless white. The Loom, the Threads, the monster—all of it disappeared into nothingness. The only thing that remained was the glowing figure before him.
Asha's voice was distant, echoing as if she were falling alongside him.
Then, the light began to solidify.
Kazama landed on solid ground, but it wasn't the Loom. He was somewhere else entirely.
A village.
Not his village.
The air smelled of fresh rain, and the sky was tinted in hues of early dawn. Around him, villagers walked along dirt paths, their faces unfamiliar. This was a different time. A different place.
Asha stumbled beside him, eyes wide. "Where… are we?"
Kazama's breath caught in his throat as he turned.
The woman from the Loom stood before them. Now, her face was clear.
She was beautiful, yet there was something eerie about her. Her golden eyes glowed faintly, her expression unreadable. She wore robes of deep red, lined with intricate gold stitching.
But what shook Kazama most was the realization—
He knew her.
Not by name, not by memory… but by something deeper.
She was part of the Loom.
The woman studied him for a long moment before speaking. Her voice was calm, yet it held an undeniable weight.
"You stand at the edge of history."
Kazama steadied himself. "Who are you?"
The woman tilted her head. "I am what remains of the first Weaver."
The word sent a chill through Kazama.
Asha narrowed her eyes. "The first Weaver?"
The woman nodded. "I was the one who wove the first Threads of fate for this land. I shaped the cycle. I created the Loom."
Kazama felt his blood run cold.
Asha exhaled sharply. "Then… you're the reason for all of this?"
The woman closed her eyes. "I did not create the monster," she said. "I created the village's cycle. It was meant to protect the people… but the Loom twisted over time. The monster was not part of the original weave."
Kazama's mind raced. "Then what went wrong?"
The woman opened her golden eyes once more.
"Something tampered with the Loom."
Kazama and Asha stiffened.
The first Weaver's expression darkened. "I am only a remnant. A fragment left behind. But I have seen glimpses of what happened."
She lifted her hand, and the world around them shifted again.
The village blurred. Time sped forward, until night had fallen.
Kazama watched as the villagers gathered around something—a group of hooded figures, standing before the Loom's altar.
A ritual.
The air trembled, dark energy swirling around them.
Then—
A crack in the Loom.
A rift tore through the Threads, and from it, something crawled out.
A monstrous shape, wreathed in darkness, its body shifting and twisting unnaturally.
The villagers screamed. The hooded figures panicked.
The Loom shuddered violently, its patterns unraveling. The village's cycle—once meant for balance—became a prison.
The first Weaver turned back to Kazama.
"The monster is not part of fate. It was forced into the weave."
Kazama's stomach twisted. "Then… someone did this intentionally?"
The Weaver's gaze was solemn. "Yes. And that means it can be undone."
Asha clenched her fists. "How?"
The Weaver slowly turned toward the distant altar. "The Loom must be rewoven. The corrupted Threads must be cut away."
Kazama's heart pounded. "And the monster?"
The Weaver met his gaze.
"It must be severed from the Loom."
Asha inhaled sharply. "But if it's part of the Loom's cycle now, won't that—"
The Weaver nodded grimly. "The village will change. The future will become uncertain."
Kazama felt the weight of it all crash down on him. This was their choice.
Undo the corruption, risk the unknown…
Or let the cycle continue, knowing the monster would never leave.
The Loom flickered again.
The vision faded.
Kazama and Asha were no longer in the past. They stood once more in the Loom's core, the Threads shifting restlessly around them.
A choice had to be made.
Kazama tightened his grip on his gun.
Asha looked at him. "Kazama…"
He met her gaze.
And for the first time, he knew exactly what he had to do.
The cycle ends tonight.
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