Chapter 55: The Weaver’s Threads

The path beyond the old temple was quiet—too quiet. Towering trees cast long shadows, their branches swaying in the evening breeze. Satya, Saanvi, Devraj, and Professor Raghav followed the narrow dirt trail, the only sound being the crunch of dried leaves beneath their feet.

"This place feels… different," Saanvi murmured.

Satya nodded. There was something unsettling about the air here, as if time itself slowed down.

A small hut emerged in the clearing ahead. Its walls were made of mud and stone, covered in ivy. Wind chimes dangled from the roof, their eerie melody mixing with the rustling leaves.

"She lives here?" Devraj asked.

Satya took a deep breath and knocked.

For a moment, nothing. Then, slow footsteps.

The wooden door creaked open, revealing a frail yet sharp-eyed woman, her silver hair tied into a braid. Her gaze met Saanvi's, and something shifted in her expression—recognition?

"You have come," she said, as if she had been expecting them.

Professor Raghav cleared his throat. "Are you the Weaver?"

The woman smiled faintly. "Names are but threads in the grand design. But yes, that is what they call me."

Satya stepped forward. "We're looking for answers… about Meera."

The Weaver studied him for a long moment. Then, without a word, she turned and walked inside, leaving the door open.

Exchanging glances, they stepped in after her.

The room was dimly lit by oil lamps. Everywhere they looked, threads of different colors hung from the walls—some woven into intricate patterns, others tangled and frayed. At the center stood a wooden loom, half-finished fabric resting on it.

The Weaver gestured to the loom. "Fate is like this—woven carefully, thread by thread. Some threads are strong, others fragile. Some are meant to be cut."

She turned to Saanvi. "You have returned to a path you once walked. But do you truly wish to see where it leads?"

Saanvi hesitated. Then, she nodded.

The Weaver sighed. "Then watch."

She reached for a bundle of old, dust-covered threads and, one by one, began placing them into the loom. As she worked, something remarkable happened.

The threads glowed faintly. And then—images.

A palace corridor. A young woman in royal attire, laughter in her eyes. A man—Veer—watching her from a distance. Their stolen moments. Their whispered promises.

Then, shadows. A figure lurking in the dark. A betrayal. A locked chamber.

Saanvi's breath hitched. Satya's fists clenched.

The Weaver stopped. "The rest of the thread is missing."

"What do you mean?" Devraj asked.

She met his gaze. "Someone has hidden it. To keep the truth from being found."

A chill settled over the room.

Satya swallowed. "Then we need to find it."

The Weaver nodded. "But beware… the one who cut the thread long ago may not wish for it to be rewoven."

Her words lingered, heavy with warning.

Satya knew one thing for certain—this was no longer just a search for answers. It was a battle against the past itself.

And the past was not willing to let go so easily.