The Boy Who Sees the Unseen

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating. The golden strands of the unraveling bandit still shimmered faintly in the air before vanishing into nothingness.

Ren's breath came in short gasps. His fingers still tingled from where he had pulled the thread. He hadn't meant to. He hadn't known that could happen.

The remaining bandits stumbled backward, their weapons half-raised, caught between fight and flight.

A villager gasped.

Then, the whispers began.

"He tore that man apart… without even touching him."

"Demon."

"This… this isn't magic. This is something else."

"He's cursed!"

Ren turned his head slowly, his wide eyes sweeping across the villagers—the people he had known his whole life. Their expressions were shifting—fear, suspicion, and dread all tangled together.

"Ren."

A hand grabbed his wrist, pulling him back.

His mother.

Her face was pale, her breath unsteady. But she didn't look at him in fear. She looked at him as though she had been waiting for this moment.

"We have to go."

She yanked him toward their home, leaving the murmurs and stares behind.

His mother shut the door behind them, bolting it. She didn't speak, didn't move, just stood there, listening to the faint voices outside.

Ren clutched his hands together, trying to stop their trembling. "Mother, I—"

She turned to him, her expression unreadable. "You pulled a thread."

His stomach twisted. "You… you know about them?"

She exhaled shakily, running a hand through her graying hair. "I was told this might happen one day. I prayed it wouldn't."

Ren frowned. "Told? By who?"

She hesitated. Then, as though making a choice she had avoided for years, she pulled out a small wooden box from beneath the floorboards. The latch was old, rusted. She undid it with careful fingers, revealing a sealed envelope inside, untouched by time.

She handed it to him. "This came with you when I found you."

Ren's heart pounded as he tore it open. Inside, there was a single letter—no name, no signature, just a short, deliberate message.

"This child is not meant for this life. He must be taken to the Academy, where he will be trained."

"If he is not… the Pattern will unravel around him."

Ren stared at the words. His hands shook.

"You always knew," he whispered.

His mother sat down heavily, rubbing her face. "I knew you were different. But the Academy… the Academy is not what you think it is."

Ren's mind was spinning. "They train Weavers."

"They don't train them," she said bitterly. "They control them."

He swallowed hard.

"The Weaving Order enforces fate. If they can train you, they can control you. And if they can't…"

She didn't finish the sentence.

Ren clenched his fists. "So you kept me hidden."

She nodded. "I thought… maybe if you never used it, you'd be safe." Her voice wavered. "But I was wrong."

Outside, the voices were growing louder. Angrier.

His mother's gaze snapped toward the door. She moved quickly, pulling back the curtain just enough to peek outside.

Her face paled.

The people of Eldrin Hollow were gathered in the square now, huddled together, murmuring, pointing toward their house.

Some looked confused. Others looked afraid.

Old Man Derik—who had always been kind to Ren—was arguing with one of the elders.

"He's just a boy!"

"A boy who did something no one should be able to do!"

"We should send word to the Weaving Order."

"No. If we do that, they'll burn this village for harboring him."

Ren's chest tightened.

His mother stepped back from the window. "It's starting."

"What do we do?"

She hesitated for only a second before whispering, "We run."

But before she could move, a new voice cut through the murmurs outside.

"There is no need to run."

The voice was smooth, laced with authority. It did not belong to any villager.

His mother froze.

Ren pushed past her, just enough to peer through the window.

A new figure stood in the square, flanked by the surviving bandits.

He was clad in black robes lined with golden thread, a small silver sigil hanging from his belt. He was young, no older than twenty-five, with sharp eyes and a thin smirk.

Ren had never seen someone like him before.

But his mother had.

Her entire body stiffened.

"A Strandbearer," she whispered, horror creeping into her voice.

The Strandbearer took a slow step forward, looking around the square. "A child who can unravel a man's fate with a mere touch," he mused. "That is a rare talent indeed."

The bandit leader—who had once ordered Ren's death—now looked uneasy. "You're sure he's worth something?"

The Strandbearer turned his sharp gaze on him. "A boy with raw ability like that? The Weaving Order would pay a great deal to… oversee his potential."

The village elder swallowed hard. "And if we refuse?"

The Strandbearer smiled. "Then the boy dies. And your village along with him."

The elder paled. The villagers muttered anxiously.

The Strandbearer let the silence stretch, then spoke again.

"I will not waste time. Hand him over."

Ren's blood ran cold.

His mother stepped away from the window. "We have to go. Now."

She grabbed his wrist and rushed to the back of the house.

She pulled aside a loose wooden board, revealing a small tunnel leading toward the forest.

Ren's chest tightened. "Come with me."

"I can't." She shook her head. "If I go, they'll know you ran. I have to make them think you're still here."

"No," Ren whispered, heart pounding.

"They won't kill me." She forced a smile. "I'm just a woman who took in a boy. But you—"

The words caught in her throat.

Tears welled in her eyes. She grabbed both sides of his face, pressing her forehead to his. "You have to survive, Ren. Find the Academy. Find someone who will teach you."

A loud bang came from the front of the house.

They were breaking in.

His mother shoved him toward the tunnel. "Go."

Ren hesitated for one final moment.

Then he turned and crawled into the darkness.

Ren emerged into the cold night, stumbling into the forest behind his home.

He didn't look back.

The voices behind him grew distant as he ran, weaving through the trees, heart hammering.

He had no plan, no idea what lay ahead.

Only his mother's final words echoed in his mind.

"Find the Academy."

Somewhere behind him, the village of Eldrin Hollow burned.