Veins of time

The sun had barely risen, casting a faint golden glow through the trees as the soft sound of birds chirping filled the air. Eris stirred, the warmth of sleep still clinging to her as she blinked against the dim morning light. The village remained hushed, save for the occasional rustle of wind through the leaves.

Aven was already awake, her movements precise as she checked their gear. The quiet efficiency in her actions reminded Eris that survival wasn't about comfort—it was about being prepared.

"Up early," Eris murmured, voice thick with sleep.

Aven didn't look up. "The loom won't open for a while, and the nightroots are still ripe for the picking. If we get them now, we'll earn more coins."

Eris hesitated as they passed the narrow hallway, glancing toward the other room where Nia was probably still curled beneath thin blankets. "Should we call Nia? She might want to join us."

Aven's fingers stilled against the strap of the supply bag, just for a second—so brief Eris almost missed it. "Nia can rest. We'll be better off without her." Her voice was smooth, but something cold lurked beneath the surface. "No one is obligated to team up in this world, Eris. Besides, we don't need distractions."

Eris bit her lip. There was something unsettling about the way Aven dismissed Nia so easily. She wanted to argue, but the weight in Aven's tone made it clear—this wasn't up for discussion.

---

The Forest of Nightroots

The three of them—Eris, Aven, and Ash—moved through the thick underbrush, the damp earth sinking slightly beneath their boots. The deeper they ventured, the more the air changed—growing heavy with humidity, laced with something metallic, something wrong.

Eris trailed her fingers along the bark of a tree as they passed. The wood felt strange beneath her touch—warped, almost pulsing. She glanced around. The flora here wasn't normal. The trees leaned at unnatural angles, their leaves curled inward, as though recoiling from something unseen. The grass didn't grow in straight lines but in chaotic spirals.

And then, she saw them.

The nightroots.

Black, glassy tendrils curled from the ground like veins, their slick surfaces pulsing with a dim, reddish sheen. They didn't sway in the wind like normal plants. They moved—shivering, twitching, almost like they were aware.

Aven crouched first, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear as she studied them. "They've spread farther." She pressed her fingers against one. It flexed beneath her touch.

Ash knelt beside her, his hand hovering just above the roots. A faint shimmer distorted the air—his magic stretching seconds forward, then pulling them back. The reaction was immediate. The nightroots pulsed, flickering between phases, their color deepening, shifting, adjusting.

Ash's brow furrowed. "They're reacting to time."

Aven frowned and wrapped a thread of silver magic around one, attempting to sever it at the base. The glow flickered—but instead of breaking apart, the nightroot's sheen intensified.

It was feeding off her magic.

Aven cursed and yanked her threads back before it could leech more. "Great. They're adapting."

Eris exhaled, adjusting her stance. "Then we need to be faster."

Aven nodded. "Let Eris and I pluck the nightroots while you, Ash, stand guard for the Hollows."

Ash hesitated. "Actually, it might be better if Eris keeps watch."

Eris frowned. "Why?"

"My magic disrupts them. If I focus on gathering them, it'll be faster." His tone was careful, but there was something else—something unspoken.

Aven exhaled sharply, but she nodded. "Fine. Eris, keep watch."

Eris swallowed her frustration and stepped back, positioning herself at the edge of the clearing. She wasn't useless. She could fight. But arguing now would only waste time.

The stillness of the forest pressed in. Every rustle of leaves, every flicker of movement sent her pulse quickening.

Something was watching them.

Then, she heard it.

A low, guttural growl.

Eris stiffened.

The air shifted, thickening with unseen tension.

"There's something here," she whispered, barely moving her lips.

Ash's fingers twitched toward his weapon. His stance tensed. "A Hollow."

The first one appeared from the darkness.

It was almost human. Almost. Its jagged, skeletal body twitched unnaturally, moving like a marionette with half-cut strings. Its hollowed-out face had no eyes—just empty sockets. Yet, it turned its head toward them with eerie precision.

Maybe soon, more will pour out from these trees.

---

The Fight

The first Hollow lunged.

Aven's silver threads snapped into existence, cutting across its torso. The creature staggered but didn't fall. Instead, its body convulsed—then knitted itself back together.

Eris's breath hitched.

The Hollow lashed out. Aven barely dodged, its claw slicing through the space where her throat had been seconds earlier.

"Shit! They're resisting my threads!"

Eris turned to run—too slow.

A crushing weight slammed into her back, knocking her face-first into the dirt. Jagged claws pressed into her shoulder, cold and unyielding.

A rotten stench filled her nose.

The Hollow's face loomed inches from hers.

Panic flared in her chest.

MOVE. DO SOMETHING.

The pressure on her arm grew unbearable.

"Eris, MOVE!"

Time cracked.

The weight on her back froze—literally. The Hollow's movements slowed to a flickering glitch in reality.

Ash stood rigid, veins straining at his temple. His Divine Time magic pulsed, warping the creature's motion. But even as he held it, the Hollow fought against the distortion, its form shuddering violently.

"I—I can't hold it for long," Ash gritted out.

Aven darted forward, her threads flashing like silver blades—but the Hollow twisted, its claw raking across her shoulder.

Blood splattered the ground.

Aven gasped, stumbling back.

The Hollow broke free.

No.

Something inside Eris snapped.

Her magic flared.

Not like before—this time, it was sharp, jagged, desperate. The light in her palm twisted violently, warping into form.

A crystalline spear burst into existence.

She didn't think.

She struck.

The spear pierced through the Hollow's chest, the impact sending a violent shockwave through the clearing. The creature convulsed—then crumbled into dust.

Silence.

Eris's hands shook. Her chest heaved.

Aven, still clutching her wound, let out a breathless laugh. "Not bad."

Ash wiped the sweat from his brow, his expression grim. "They're getting stronger."

Eris swallowed hard. She wasn't sure if he meant the Hollows—or her.

Then, beneath the roots of an ancient tree, something pulsed with light.

A hidden map.

Its edges were frayed, the symbols upon it alien. Strange, looping patterns and cryptic runes covered its surface. A fragmented riddle ran along its length.

Aven unrolled it, scanning the markings.

It read:

"Where the first weave bends time, The crystal shall awaken. In the ruin's shadow, the path is clear, Only the first must lead the way."

Eris stared at the words, her pulse hammering.

A vital clue. Though she wasn't sure what it meant yet.

Without speaking, Aven folded the map back up, tucking it into the supply pack. "We'll look into this after today's duties.Let's get back. The others will be waiting."

When they arrived back at the village, the weight of their discovery lingered between them. The others were already gathered for breakfast, but Eris barely tasted her food. Her mind kept drifting back to the Hollow's unnatural resilience, the way her magic had surged forth at the end of the battle. Had that been her true power? Or was it just desperation forcing something new out of her?

Even as the morning bustle continued around them, the unease never left. The map's cryptic riddle gnawed at her thoughts, but there was no time to dwell on it now. They all had to leave for the weaver's bode.

The Weavers' Bode soon stood before them, its towering stone walls darkened by age and draped in strands of silver thread that shimmered faintly under the sunlight. The air inside was thick with the scent of dye, parchment, and something older—like time itself had settled into the very fabric of the place.

A tall figure stood waiting in the center of the hall, his cold, scrutinizing gaze sweeping over them as if measuring their worth. His presence alone was enough to command silence.

"You're here." His voice was sharp, each word clipped with authority. "The loom does not wait for the idle. If you've come seeking knowledge, you will earn it with your hands. If you've come for power, you will find it only through patience. If you are here for neither, leave now."

Eris met his gaze.

She wasn't leaving.