Chapter 51: The Threads of Fate

The darkness stretched infinitely, an all-encompassing void that swallowed everything, leaving no trace of the world that had been. There were no stars, no light, no sound—only the infinite nothingness, as if existence itself had been erased.

Steven stood alone in the void, his senses completely overwhelmed by the absence of reality. The Codex was gone, the Weaver's presence lingering like a shadow at the edge of his mind. His body felt numb, his very essence torn between this void and the realm he had fought so hard to protect.

"Is this... the end?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper in the silence.

But there was no answer.

For a moment, he simply floated there, adrift in the emptiness. He could feel the weight of time pressing in on him, the realization that nothing mattered anymore. The Weaver had spoken the truth—time could not be controlled, only endured. And Steven had failed.

But then, something shifted.

A faint light appeared in the distance, flickering like a dying star. It pulsed softly, as though it were breathing, its glow weak but persistent. Steven's heart skipped a beat, and despite the overwhelming sense of loss, a sliver of hope sparked within him.

He began to move toward it, each step a battle against the oppressive stillness. As he drew closer, the light grew stronger, and with it, a sound—soft at first, like the whisper of a forgotten song, but slowly, it built into something more. A chorus, faint but unmistakable, woven from the very fabric of existence.

The light coalesced into a form—an image that Steven couldn't fully comprehend. It was a tapestry, woven from threads of pure energy, shifting and twisting like the fabric of the universe itself. The threads flickered in a dazzling array of colors, each one representing a different possibility, a different path, a different outcome.

He could feel them—feel the weight of each thread, the burden of every choice that had led to this moment.

"The Threads of Fate," he whispered, his voice trembling as he reached out toward the shimmering strands.

As his fingers brushed the threads, the world around him shifted. Time itself seemed to bend, and Steven was pulled into a whirlwind of visions—futures, pasts, and possibilities blending together into a kaleidoscope of endless potential.

He saw himself, over and over again, in countless variations. Some versions were victorious, standing triumphant against impossible odds. Others were defeated, broken by the weight of the world. Some were lost in darkness, while others radiated with an unearthly light.

But through it all, one thing remained constant: the Codex. No matter what path he took, the Codex was there, its pages glowing with the same, unyielding power.

And then, the tapestry began to unravel.

The threads twisted, fractured, and collapsed inward, as if something was pulling them apart. A cold, hollow feeling surged through Steven's chest as he realized the truth—this wasn't just a vision of what could be. This was a glimpse into the heart of reality itself.

"The Rewind isn't just about resetting time," he muttered, the pieces clicking into place. "It's about rewriting fate."

He reached out, his hand trembling, and grasped one of the threads.

The moment he touched it, the world exploded around him.

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(To be continued...)