Chapter-30 Threads Of Creation

When Frederique arrived at Lysandro's salon, he greeted her with a dramatic flourish, sweeping his deep violet coat behind him as if stepping onto a stage. His silver-streaked hair shimmered under the soft candlelight, and his sharp features curved into a satisfied smile.

"Ah, my most promising student returns!" he declared, voice rich with theatrical flair.

"I can see the growth in your posture already... confidence suits you, darling."

With a graceful gesture, he extended his arm for her to take.

"Come, today you shall not be bored with mere words. I shall personally escort you to the Fey Library... only the finest minds deserve to touch such ancient wisdom."

The library smelled of old paper, ink, and the faint trace of something Frederique couldn't quite place... like the air just before a storm. Books lined the walls in tall, dark shelves reaching up to a ceiling that seemed far too high for the compact size of the room. Candlelight flickered along the stone walls, casting strange shadows that danced with each page turned.

Lysandro was waiting for her at the long wooden table. His silver-streaked hair was tied back in a loose braid today, and his usual calm expression betrayed nothing of what he had prepared for her. In front of him, five thick tomes sat stacked neatly, their covers worn yet meticulously cared for.

"You've come for the truth, yes?"

Lysandro began, tapping the top book. His voice carried the weight of a teacher, but there was something else... like he was measuring her reaction, testing her curiosity.

Frederique nodded, folding her arms protectively.

"You said you'd explain how all of this...this world works. I'm ready."

Lysandro's lips curled into the barest smile as he slid the first book across the table. Its cover was deep midnight blue, embossed with a silver spiral design she couldn't quite understand. The title, The Creation, was written in elegant cursive along the spine.

"This will be your first lesson today," he said.

"But a word of caution... "

His expression darkened slightly.

"History is rarely absolute. This book was written by those who claim to know the truth, but even they argue among themselves. Treat it as a perspective, not fact. Read it carefully, and we'll discuss after."

Frederique opened the book with a soft creak of the spine. The pages were aged, but the ink was as clear as if freshly written.

"In the beginning, there was nothing. No light, no darkness, not even the absence of either. An unending void beyond the concepts of space or time. And from this perfect void, a single thread emerged... Prime."

The words seemed to pulse on the page, the word Prime standing out as though the ink had been pressed deeper. Frederique felt a strange warmth in her chest, almost like her Glamour stirring.

Lysandro's voice, calm and guiding, interrupted her reading.

"Prime is the essence of magic itself... the first spark of existence, before there was anything to shape it."

She nodded and kept reading.

"More threads followed, born from the nothingness. At first, Prime alone wove through the void, but then another thread appeared... Space. Where Prime was power, Space gave shape. Boundaries. Distance. There was now a somewhere, though it was empty."

"The threads multiplied, and then Time was born. With it came the flow of moments, the first heartbeat of reality. Space was no longer infinite... now things could begin, and things could end."

Frederique frowned, tilting her head.

"So...magic was first, but everything else came after? Is it saying that magic created...everything?"

Lysandro shook his head gently. "No. It says Prime existed. What came next was not the result of a plan but a consequence. These threads you read about... " he gestured to the book, "... are not metaphors. They're the fundamental forces that weave our reality. And Prime simply is. It's not the source of power; it is power."

Frederique continued, the words drawing her deeper.

"As the threads intertwined, they birthed new aspects of existence. Causality... where chance and fate began. Matter... where substance formed. Force... where motion and gravity shaped what was made. Life... where the first spark of living essence emerged. Mind... where thought, dream, and will began to take shape. And finally, Spirit... the thread of the soul, the intangible self that binds all together."

She blinked.

"Wait, so...everything is made of these threads? Even people?"

Lysandro nodded, leaning back with a thoughtful expression.

"Exactly. You're beginning to understand. And some beings, like us, can touch those threads. Glamour itself is a refinement of Prime and Mind... dreamstuff, shaped into something usable. Your Art draws from those same threads."

Frederique's eyes narrowed as she reread the list. Prime, Space, Time, Causality, Matter, Force, Life, Mind, Spirit. Nine forces, intertwined.

She turned the page, and the illustrations changed. Now the threads were woven together into a vast tapestry. From its endless patterns, three figures emerged, each stylized and abstract.

"From the completed Tapestry rose the Primordials. The Wild, the Weaver, and the Wyrm. Born not of threads but of their tension...creation, transformation, and destruction."

"The Wild created... the Weaver changed... and the Wyrm destroyed." Frederique spoke the words aloud, unsettled.

"So what, they're gods?"

Lysandro shook his head.

"No. They're older. Gods came later. The Primordials are... forces. Balance made manifest. The Wild is the spark of unchecked creation, the constant birth of ideas, beings, and realities. The Weaver took that chaos and wove structure, forming rules, patterns, limits. Without it, reality would dissolve into raw chaos again. And the Wyrm..."

Frederique swallowed, feeling the chill in his voice.

"Destroys?"

"Yes, but not out of malice. The Wyrm is necessary, as all things must end. To make way for the new."

She stared at the page, the swirling lines forming the vast tapestry around the three beings. But something felt wrong.

"Is this balance still...working?"

Lysandro hesitated.

"No. Something...broke. Long ago. But that is a story for another book."

Frederique exhaled, closing The Creation gently. Her mind felt heavier, as though she'd glimpsed the foundation of something vast and ancient.

Lysandro gestured toward the next book in the pile. "You're beginning to understand the basics. Read this next, and you will learn where we came from."

She nodded, feeling both fascinated and uneasy as the ancient secrets continued to unfold.