Weaver's Call

Ryan moved like a ghost through the chaos of the Core Chamber, a silent observer in a war that had erupted all around him.

The air was thick with the smell of ozone from energy weapons, the gut-wrenching hum of sonic disruptors, and the furious war cries of the Iron Wolves.

It was chaos all around, and he was just trying to create something of his own in the middle of it.

As he watched the battle unfold, he noticed something strange. The god Weaver, the magnificent, floating machine at the heart of the room, had begun to pulse.

Its soft, internal light was brightening and dimming in a slow, rhythmic beat, like a giant heart picking up its pace. The thousands of golden and silver threads that made up its structure were weaving and shifting faster now, a look of urgency in their mechanical dance.