chapter 5 The Weaver's Gift

In a dimly lit cell, I stand with Parker, cloaked in invisibility. The stale air is clinging to us as shadows stretch across the cold stone walls.

Before me lies Owen, a scrawny man in his thirties, average build and strength, lying on the solid bed, looking like any other prisoner here.

But today, he's going to be different.

"You're seriously picking him over all the other prisoners?" Parker says, glancing at me. His voice is barely above a whisper.

"Exactly." I smirk, letting the words linger in the air. "The weak ones are always the most unpredictable. Besides..." I pause, my eyes gleaming mischievously. "I want to know what he will do with the taste of power."

"Well, you can do whatever you want. This is your game, afterall." Parker mutters, shrugging with a resigned look.

I whisper softly, "Wake up, child, wake up."

I wave my hand and Owen's body stirs. His eyes snap open and his hands immediately cover them against the sudden brightness he finds himself in. His body tenses, confusion overtaking his face.

Before him stands me, a figure surrounded by an intense, almost blinding glow.

"Wh-what's happening?" Owen stammers, his eyes adjusting to the brilliance slowly.

Then, his gaze falls on me, a being dressed in white, my silver hair glowing in the haze of the light, an otherworldly presence.

"Wh-who are you?" He asks, his voice trembling with disbelief and shock.

I smile softly, my voice calm and soothing. "I am known as the Weaver. I'm here to weave your broken fate together."

"My. Fate?"

"Yes," I reply, my voice dropping low, drawing him in. "You were once a powerful being in your past life, a creator of power. I'm here to give that power back to you."

"P-power? Past life?"

"Yes," I confirm. "The power of invisibility that you created. I will return it to you."

I extend my hand toward him, and touch his forehead. I utter a command, as if casting some ancient spell.

"The power of invisibility. Go back to your origin."

Owen closes his eyes, bracing himself for a shock, but nothing actually happens. He opens his eyes slowly, confusion and uncertainty clouding his expression.

"Is... it done?" He asks, searching my face for answers.

"Yes, it is." I reply, my tone firm. "But there are conditions to using your powers. Now, I'll explain them. First, when you are invisible, it drains your stamina. Second, you cannot use this power outside of this area, means this prison."

Owen thinks for a moment, then looks at me with a glimmer of defiance in his eyes. "Hmm, can't you change the conditions a bit?"

"Don't push your luck, child," I say flatly. "May you live a long and happy life."

With that, I vanish from the cell with Parker. In the blink of an eye, we just disappear, and Owen returns to his cell.

Then, the next moment, we are standing before one of my many sprawling mansions, its grand structure towering above us. The evening air carries a hint of sweetness, the garden around the mansion beautifully manicured, the stone pathway leading to the entrance like an invitation to a different life.

Parker is stunned the moment he sees it. His eyes widen, and for a moment, he stands frozen in place, as though the mansion itself has stolen his breath.

I step forward and Parker, still blinking in disbelief, follows me wordlessly.

I open the gates with a simple gesture, and before me stands Alfred, my trusted butler, dressed sharply in his black suit, as always. Beside him are the other servants, elegantly dressed and standing in perfect formation.

As I step inside, Alfred greets me with a respectful bow. "Welcome back, my lord. Was your trip worthwhile this time?"

"Ahh, Alfred, take care of this man," I say, motioning to Parker. "He will live here now. Take care of his every need."

"As you wish, my lord," Alfred replies with his usual poise, giving Parker a polite nod.

"Enjoy your life, Parker. Be thankful you ever met me," I say with a quiet smile, then disappear again into the mansion, leaving them to their new roles.

Parker, for the first time in his life, stands in awe of the opulence surrounding him. The scent of polished wood and the faint fragrance of fresh flowers fill the air. The halls are bathed in soft, warm lighting that accentuates the gold trim and intricate carvings adorning the walls. Every corner of the mansion seems to hum with an elegance that only wealth can bring.

Parker takes a deep breath, his chest expanding as if he's inhaling the luxury, savoring it. "Haha," he chuckles, shaking his head. "Now this... this is life. The one I deserve."

He turns to Alfred. "Show me to my room. And bring me some clothes, and something to eat. I'm starving."

"Of course, this way, sir," Alfred replies smoothly, gesturing for Parker to follow him.

Parker—who was just another prisoner, nothing more than a face in the crowd—now stands on the cusp of a completely new life.

On the other hand, Owen, another prisoner who got the chance as well, but will he turns over or get even more immersed in his desires and goals

The next day,

Owen is sitting on a bench in the prison yard, the sunlight spilling over him. His eyes are closed, feeling the warmth of the sun on his face.

"so, I can't use this power outside of this prison. That complicates things," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

"But if I can't leave... then I just need to become the boss here. Make this place my base, and enjoy my life. I can have all the wealth and women I want. Hehehe... hahahaha..." His laughter fades into a low chuckle, but then it cuts off abruptly.

He thinks for a moment, eyes narrowing as his mind churns with plans. "But to get to the top, I need to take care of the top dogs here first. Or get them under me."

He leans back on the bench. "But to do that, I need a solid plan. Either I take care of them, or... use the guards."

He opens his eyes and rests his head on his hand, his thoughts swirling. "For that, I need a weapon... but..." His brow furrows. "Even with a weapon, I can't take them all on. But if I can make them take care of each other... I can finish off the remaining ones myself."

A gleam of confidence sparks in his eyes. "It's decided then—"

Just as he's about to continue, a voice interrupts him. "Hey, pipsqueak, go sit somewhere else."

Owen looks up, his gaze locking onto the source of the voice—Jasper, the right-hand man of John, the leader of the male gang in the prison. John rules the male section of the prison with an iron fist.

Owen doesn't waste a second. He jumps off the bench and quickly moves, glancing at Jasper from the corners of his eyes.

His mind races as he walks away. The plan is set. First, I get my hands on a weapon. Then I stir up infighting between the top dogs. After that... I'll deal with the rest.

He spots a guard at the gate, lazily leaning against the wall, a gun holstered at his side.

The lazy guard, as everyone call him.

Perfect, Owen thinks. I can get the gun from him.

With a thought, he turns invisible, moving with practiced stealth. His footsteps are silent as he approaches the guard, who's completely unaware of his presence.

Owen inches closer, his fingers itching. He knows exactly what to do, thanks to his years practice of pickpocking.

"Who's the lazy guard?" Owen whispers, his voice ghostly close to the man's ear.

The guard jumps, spinning around. "Who said that?" he growls, but his eyes find nothing but empty space.

"These fuck low-lives. I swear to god, I'll fucking beat them if i find out who it is." He says, slowly turning his head back, his hand away from the holster for just a moment.

But that moment was enough for the expert pickpocketer Owen to do his magic.

Now, with the gun in hand, Owen just needs the opportunity to strike. He first hides the gun in his pants, the safest place in the whole prison, right now.

Hah, The lazy guard doesn't even notice that his gun is gone. Poor guy, getting The lazy one role, and now victim. (Author) 😭😭

And then, he begins to roam around the top dogs in invisibility, hoping to find some chance, some opportunity to set his plan in motion.

Time pass and soon it starts getting dark. He hasn't found anything yet, but luckily, he does run across some good people with good information.

Two guys talking to each other. (Poor them)

"So tomorrow's the deal, right?" one asks.

"Yes," the other responds, nodding. "Boss will receive the batch tomorrow. We can get the stuff quite soon."

Owen's heart races. A batch? A delivery tomorrow? He listens closely, but the conversation is cut short.

"Ohh, so tomorrow's the time for another batch delivery. Guess I'll get my opportunity then."

The pieces start to fall into place. Tonight. That's when I strike.

With his plan starting to solidify, Owen fades into the shadows, ready to make his move.