Whispers of the threads(1)

Silence lingered long after the elder's words. No one touched their food now. Not after last night.

Not after what they had just realized.

Fox and Leon were gone. No one remembered them. Or rather, the village didn't want to remember them. Whimpers began to fall from Cinder and Nia. Another boy was wiping his face in dread. This breakfast was fast becoming unpalatable despite to the fact that it was necessary.

Eris tightened her grip on the edge of the table. The uneasy weight in her stomach hadn't faded. She felt unsettled. After sometime, Aven took her spoon and started eating. Others followed suit, after all could they do their tasks on an empty stomach? No, but they just had to be more careful. This was more or less a warning. They still had to eat.

The elder stood, brushing nonexistent dust from his robes. "Today," he said, voice even, "you are to see to certain tasks."

The way he said it made the back of Eris's neck prickle.

"You must earn your stay. You must give ten coins each day till the Weavon Festival, which is holding in six days", the elder continued. "Each of you will choose a task from the board. In return, you will receive the respective coins."

Coins. This was indeed similar to what Orlen had told them before they got here. He sure knew his stuff well. Eris had no illusions though. There was no refusing.

The elder gestured to the far end of the hall, where a wooden board had been set against the wall. Slips of parchment clung to it like dried leaves, each scrawled with ink.

"Choose wisely. After all,you are mostly here to weave and if you can't do that before the Festival, it won't bode well for you," the elder said. " Also, to learn to weave, you should go to the Weavers house at the edge of the village tommorow. You should have gone by today but I noticed that despite being travelers, nobody here has the designated coins.".

And then, without another word, he left.

A heavy silence filled the room.

For a long moment, no one moved.

Then Orlen stood.

Without hesitation, he strode toward the board. His calm, purposeful movements shattered whatever spell had been keeping the rest frozen.

The others followed.

Eris rose slowly, exchanging a glance with Ash and Aven. The three of them made their way forward, skimming the board as others began pulling slips down.

The tasks were written in sharp, neat script.

Harvest the Nightroots (10 coins for two nightroots , low risk).

Feed the Threads ( 20 coins for three threads fed, low risk).

Shadow Watch (10 coins per hollow killed, mid risk).

Unravel the Silent Ones (?? coins, unknown risk).

Eris's breath caught. The last one had no listed value. Just a question mark. She wasn't the only one who thought this was weird .

"That one's a trap," Reed muttered under his breath, stepping back. "No way I'm touching that."

"Then don't," Orlen said smoothly, plucking a slip from the board. Shadow Watch. His expression didn't change. He simply tucked it into his belt and turned away.

A murmur rippled through the group.

Eris hadn't been the only one watching him carefully.

Orlen was the closest thing to an expert they had. He had experience. He must have survived things like this before. If he was taking Shadow Watch, others would follow.

Sure enough, Gray stepped forward next. Then Cinder. Then Reed.

One by one, they reached for the same slip.

The unspoken logic was simple: If Orlen was taking the risk, it meant he believed he could survive it. And if they followed him, they might survive too.

"Idiots," Ash muttered. "They think being near him makes them safe."

"Doesn't it?" Eris asked quietly.

Ash didn't answer.

Others started making their choices. The Nightroots task filled quickly—Aven and Nia, took this route. Eris hesitated for a moment, before reaching out.

Feed the Threads.

The slip was rough against her fingers.

A mistake? Maybe. But the idea of spending the day knee-deep in whatever Shadow Watch entailed made her skin crawl and gathering of plants didn't appeal to her either. At least this one seemed manageable.

Or so she hoped.

Ash reached for the same task. Their gazes met. He didn't say anything, just exhaled sharply and tucked the slip away.

"Guess I'm stuck with you," he muttered.

A small comfort.

By the time they finished, the groups were set.

Orlen led Shadow Watch—Gray, Cinder, Reed, and two others trailing behind him like shadows.

Aven and Nia took Nightroots, heading toward the outer fields.

And Feed the Threads was left to Eris, Ash, and a girl named Elara—one of the quieter ones.

That left only one task untouched.

Unravel the Silent Ones.

No one had dared take it.

The loomhouse stretched wide before them, its frame woven with age. The building was quieter than Eris expected, but not empty. The air inside hummed, faint with something unseen.

Elara stopped at the doorway. "Have either of you done this before?"

Ash scoffed. "Obviously not."

Eris frowned. "What do we even—"

Her voice trailed off as she saw the looms.

They weren't empty.

Silken threads hung like pale veins, stretched taut across the wooden frames. Some shimmered faintly, pulsing like living things. Others lay dull and lifeless.

And at the farthest end of the room, a large vat sat open. Inside, a swirling mass of dark liquid shifted, rippling without cause.

A single instruction was written on the wall in carved script:

Feed the Threads.

Eris stepped closer.

The moment her fingers brushed against one of the lifeless strands, a flicker of memory that was not her own surged through her mind. A woman's voice, distant. Faint laughter. The scent of something warm—then cold metal, sudden silence.

She ripped her hand back.

Ash and Elara looked at her sharply.

"You heard it too," Elara murmured. Not a question.

Eris swallowed. "What… are these threads?"

Elara exhaled. "They're not just fabric." She gestured toward the dark vat. "That's what we're supposed to use. It should keep them from unraveling and also I do know a thing or two about threads but these seem oddly different."

Ash moved to the vat and crouched. He touched the surface of the liquid carefully, his fingers barely skimming it.

The room dimmed.

For a brief, terrible moment, Eris felt something watching them.

Then it passed.

Ash exhaled, yanking his hand back. His fingers were coated in black ink, but it was already fading, sinking into his skin. His eyes narrowed.

"This isn't normal magic," he muttered "It looks like Memory magic".