Chapter 52 : The Thread of Destiny

The world shattered like glass around Steven, splintering into countless fragments of light and sound. Time itself seemed to freeze as he was pulled deeper into the web of fate, the thread in his hand glowing brighter and pulsing with an energy that shook his very soul. The more he held onto it, the more he felt his connection to everything—every life, every choice, every moment.

For a brief moment, he saw flashes of his past: moments with friends, enemies, the Codex itself, all flickering in and out like the pages of a story being written anew. But this time, the images didn't vanish. They lingered, each one hanging in the air like a tangible memory, a moment frozen in time.

And then, in the center of it all, there was a voice.

A familiar voice, but not from the present.

"Steven…"

The voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of a thousand lifetimes. It wasn't the Weaver, nor was it the Keeper. This voice was older, more ancient, as though it had been echoing across the very fabric of the universe for eons.

"Who...?" Steven's voice cracked, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he strained to look around, but there was nothing. Just the swirling chaos of the broken world.

"I am the one who came before," the voice continued, its tone filled with both sorrow and understanding. "The one who wove the first threads. The one who saw time before it was bound by the Codex."

"Before the Codex?" Steven repeated, his mind racing. "But... I thought the Codex..."

"The Codex was never the beginning," the voice interrupted, its presence enveloping him. "It is the tool of the Weaver, yes. But before all that, there was only the thread—the first strand of fate, unbroken and untouched."

Steven's heart pounded as the realization settled in. The Codex, the power he had wielded, the Regressors, everything—it had all been part of a much larger design. A design that predated even the beginning of time itself.

"You… you are the true origin?" he asked, feeling a strange sense of both awe and fear.

The voice didn't answer right away. Instead, the world around Steven began to shift, the threads of fate weaving themselves into a more coherent pattern. He could feel it—an overwhelming force, the very foundation of existence, taking shape before him. Slowly, the light coalesced into a figure. A silhouette, vast and imposing, whose presence radiated with the power of the universe itself.

A figure of indescribable beauty and terror, its form both human and not. An ethereal being whose eyes gleamed with the stars, and whose voice echoed with the weight of eternity.

"I am the Weft," the being said, its voice deep and resonant. "I was the first to breathe life into the threads. I wove the very fabric of time before the Codex was ever conceived."

Steven felt a surge of emotion—fear, awe, and an undeniable curiosity. "You… you control fate?"

The Weft's gaze shifted to him, and for a moment, Steven felt as though the entirety of his existence was being weighed, measured, and understood in an instant.

"No," the Weft answered, its tone softening slightly. "I am not its controller. I am its origin. The threads exist as part of the balance. It is not for any being, even the Weaver, to control fate. We are all woven into it, as you are. But you, Steven Lethal, are different."

Steven's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean? How am I different?"

"You are the one who has walked the threads," the Weft said, its form flickering like a flame. "You have crossed the line between creation and destruction. You have touched the heart of time itself."

Steven's thoughts raced. "I've been changing fate. Rewriting it. I've meddled with it…"

"Not just meddled," the Weft interrupted, its voice growing more intense. "You've broken it. You've torn the threads of time. And now, the fabric of existence is fraying. The Final Rewind is not just a reset—it is the universe attempting to restore itself. But it is also a warning."

"A warning?" Steven repeated. His mind was reeling. "A warning for what?"

The Weft's eyes darkened, a hint of sadness flickering in its gaze. "The threads are being torn apart because of you. Because of your power, your attempts to rewrite fate. The Codex is but a part of a much larger plan. And now, you must decide: will you repair the threads you have broken, or will you allow the weave of time to unravel completely?"

Steven's breath caught in his throat. "Repair the threads? How?"

"The choice is yours," the Weft said, its voice fading as the light around Steven began to dim. "You must decide which threads to weave, which threads to sever. You cannot save them all."

The world around Steven started to fragment again, the threads of fate becoming a swirling vortex of impossible choices.

"I... I will fix it," Steven said, his voice filled with determination. "I will make things right. I can't let everything fall apart."

The Weft's voice lingered in the air, a final whisper: "Time is a web, Starcaster. And you are now part of it."

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(To be continued...)