CHAPTER NINETEEN: Unmade Reality
The Skyspire trembled, its crystalline Loom pulsing erratically as the silver-threaded Weaver faction's device unravelled reality itself, threads of the world fraying like a torn tapestry. Kael fought against the Voidborn's influence, its whispers a constant storm in his mind: *"Destroy them, Kael… or we will."* The shard fragments in his pocket burned, violet energy crackling around him, his glitchweaving spiraling—violet threads lashed out, shattering drones, but each weave pushed him closer to the edge, blood streaming from his nose and eyes, his gray eyes glowing with chaotic violet light.
Vren was trapped in a cage of silver threads, their silver hair matted with sweat, blue eyes fierce despite their predicament. The silver faction's leader, a towering figure in sleek armor, their voice cold as steel, activated the device further, threads unravelling the Skyspire's walls—steel turned to dust, the air glitched, and reality itself warped, scavengers outside screaming as the slums began to collapse into the void.
Lira, the elite Weaver and Kael's fellow creator descendant, wove golden threads alongside Kael, their gray eyes sharp with determination, violet streaks in their hair shimmering. "We can save Vren," Lira urged, their golden-threaded armor pulsing with power. "But you have to fight the Voidborn's hold. Our bloodline—it's the only thing that can stop this."
Kael nodded, his creator bloodline resonating with the Loom, pain searing through him. He wove, violet and gold threads merging in a dazzling storm, clashing with the silver faction's device. The cage around Vren weakened, threads snapping, but the device's unravelling accelerated—rifts tore open across the Skyspire, violet and chaotic, Voidborn entities pouring out, their forms a writhing mass of unmade threads, their swirling eyes fixed on Kael.
Ryn fought to protect Kael, her knife flashing, her goggles fogged with sweat, her auburn hair whipping in the chaotic wind. She slashed a Voidborn entity, its threads dissolving, but another lunged, its tendrils wrapping her leg, dragging her toward a rift. "Kael!" she screamed, her green eyes wide with fear, her scavenged jacket tearing as she struggled.
Kael's heart stopped—Ryn, his anchor, the one who'd dived into a rift for him (Chapter 12), who'd held him through possession (Chapter 15). He wove, violet threads tearing the entity apart, freeing Ryn, but the effort pushed him to his limit—his vision blackened, his body collapsing, the Voidborn's voice roaring: *"You cannot resist us…"*
Ryn crawled to him, her leg bleeding, her hands trembling as she pulled him behind a fallen pillar. "Kael, stay with me," she whispered, her voice breaking, her green eyes locked on his. She tore a strip from her jacket, wrapping his wounds, her touch gentle despite the chaos. "I… I can't lose you." Her words carried a weight beyond survival—a confession, raw and unspoken, her loyalty deepening into something more.
Mira, her cybernetic arm sparking, fired her pulse rifle at the silver faction, her scar stark against her shaved head, her dark eyes burning with defiance. "We're out of time!" she shouted, dodging a silver thread, her rifle blazing. "That device—it's unmaking everything!"
Lira and Kael wove together, their creator bloodline syncing with the Loom, violet and gold threads stabilizing reality. The device's unravelling slowed, Vren breaking free, their green threads joining the fight. But a massive Voidborn rift tore open at the Skyspire's core, a new entity emerging—taller, more defined, its form humanoid but woven entirely of violet threads, its swirling eye radiating power. "I am Zyrath," it declared, its voice a chorus of echoes, "true heir of the creators. You, Kael, are a pretender."
Kael froze, the shard fragments burning, his bloodline resonating with Zyrath's presence. The Voidborn entity claimed the creators' legacy—had Kael been wrong all along? The Skyspire quaked, reality unravelling faster, the slums outside falling into chaos as Zyrath's power grew.
To be continued…