The Calm Before the Storm

Raine sat on the edge of his cot, staring at the stone floor, the remnants of his dream clinging to him like damp fog. His breath was steady now, but his pulse had yet to slow.

The city swallowed by the Abyss.

The words wouldn't leave him. They pressed at the edges of his mind, demanding to be acknowledged. The vision had been too clear—more than just a dream.

A warning.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. He didn't know if he believed in fate, but whatever had spoken to him in that abyss—it knew him. It knew what lay ahead.

And it had given him a destination.

A sharp knock at the door snapped him from his thoughts.

"Still alive in there?" Alden's voice.

Raine sighed. "Barely."

Alden pushed open the door, stepping inside with his usual easy confidence. But there was something in his posture—something tense.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Alden said.

Raine almost laughed. Not far off.

"Just a bad dream."

Alden raised a brow. "That bad?"

Raine hesitated. He wasn't sure if he should say it out loud. But keeping it to himself felt worse.

"I saw the Society burn."

Alden's smirk faltered.

"I saw Ezren dead," Raine continued. "I saw the Arcanum standing over the ruins."

Alden didn't speak. His jaw tightened, and when he finally looked at Raine, his expression was unreadable.

"You think it was just a dream?"

Raine shook his head. "No."

Alden cursed under his breath. He paced once, twice, then stopped. "You tell Ezren yet?"

Raine hesitated. "Not yet."

"Then do it," Alden said. "Now."

Raine stood, pushing aside his exhaustion.

They found Ezren where he always was—watching. The older man stood at the training grounds, arms crossed as he observed the younger Weavers sparring in the central chamber. The torchlight cast deep shadows across his face, making the already stern lines of his expression sharper.

Ezren turned before Raine could speak, as if he knew he was coming. "You look like you've got something to say."

Raine didn't bother with pleasantries. "I saw the Society fall."

Ezren's expression didn't change. But something in his eyes hardened.

Raine told him everything.

The bloodstained halls. The burning ruins. The Arcanum's presence.

Ezren listened, silent. When Raine finally finished, he exhaled through his nose.

"So," Ezren murmured. "It's finally happening."

Alden stiffened. "You knew?"

Ezren shook his head. "Not for certain. But the Arcanum's been too quiet. They don't let things slip through their fingers unless they're preparing to cut them off entirely."

Raine swallowed. "Then we need to leave."

Ezren studied him for a long moment.

"No," he said.

Raine's fists clenched. "Did you hear me? They're coming."

"I heard you." Ezren's voice was calm, but sharp as a blade. "But running doesn't change what we are."

Alden scoffed. "What, so we just wait here to die?"

Ezren turned to face them fully. His presence filled the room like a weight pressing against their chests.

"We fight."

The words were simple. Cold.

Raine's stomach twisted.

Ezren's gaze flicked to him. "Your dream wasn't just a warning. It was a test."

Raine frowned. "A test?"

Ezren nodded. "You think the Abyss sent you a message just to scare you?" He stepped closer. "It showed you where to go. It's giving you a choice."

Raine felt his pulse quicken. "The city swallowed by the Abyss."

Ezren nodded. "There's power there. Answers. Maybe even something the Arcanum doesn't want us to find." His expression darkened. "Which is why they're making their move now."

Alden folded his arms. "So what? You hold them off while we make a run for it?"

Ezren didn't answer immediately. And that silence made Raine's stomach drop.

"This isn't just about us," Ezren said. "The Society has been fighting the Arcanum's grip for generations. If we run, they win."

Raine swallowed.

Ezren turned to him fully now. "But you have something different."

Raine stiffened. "I don't even understand what I have."

"Then figure it out before they do," Ezren said. "Because if they get their hands on you, they'll rip it out of you piece by piece."

The weight of his words settled deep in Raine's chest.

He thought of the ruined halls. The blood. The cold certainty of his own failure.

His fingers curled into fists.

"What do we do?" he asked.

Ezren's lips curled into something that wasn't quite a smile.

"We prepare."

The next hours passed in a blur.

The Weaving Society wasn't built on trust. It was built on necessity. And necessity meant that when the order was given, people moved.

Weapons were sharpened. Wards reinforced. Scouts sent to monitor the city above.

Alden took his place beside Raine, tightening the straps on his gloves. "Feels weird, doesn't it?"

Raine glanced at him. "What does?"

Alden smirked. "Knowing that we're about to make history."

Raine wasn't sure if that was the right word.

He thought about the dream. The destruction. The bodies.

If history was going to be made, he wasn't sure if he wanted to be on this side of it.

Ezren gathered the senior Weavers in the central chamber, his voice carrying through the halls. "The Arcanum has waited long enough. They think we're just a scattered resistance. They think we're afraid."

A murmur ran through the crowd.

Ezren's eyes gleamed in the torchlight. "We show them what happens when they push too far."

A cheer rose. A war cry.

But Raine didn't cheer.

Because something still felt wrong.

He turned his gaze upward—toward the stone ceiling, toward the city above.

And then—

A shift in the air.

Something heavy.

Something inevitable.

The Society was ready for battle.

But Raine knew—

The Arcanum was almost here.