Chapter Twenty-Seven – The Forgotten Name

Daughter.

The word followed me like a shadow stitched into my spine. It wasn't Kael's magic or some echo of a memory—it was something older. Older than the Veil. Older than the threads themselves.

It knew me.

But I didn't know it.

We traveled eastward, deeper into the Woven Wilds—a place where even thread-guides refused to enter. The trees here whispered, not in words, but in vibrations. The path changed constantly, as if the land was alive and indecisive.

The Threadless moved behind us in uneasy silence.

Kael walked ahead with purpose, the map etched into his gauntlet glowing faintly with runes only the Weavers once used. "The Threadforge sits beneath the old mountains," he muttered, half to himself. "We're close now. Three days at most."

Riven moved beside me.

"You haven't said much," he murmured.

I hesitated. "That voice… it called me daughter."

His brow furrowed. "Your parents—?"

"No," I said quickly. "It wasn't human. It felt… ancient. Like a forgotten god trying to remember its place in the story."

Riven considered that. "You've changed, Sera. You feel… different."

"I am different."

I reached into my cloak and pulled out the fragment of my old thread—the one I tore free the day I defied my fate.

It shimmered weakly now, but the color had changed. It was no longer silver. It pulsed between violet and crimson.

"I think I'm becoming something new," I said quietly. "Not Threadless. Not Weaver. Just… me."

Riven touched the thread fragment, then my hand. "Then we'll follow you. Not fate."

Before I could reply, Kael stopped dead in his tracks.

"What is it?" I asked.

He pointed.

The trees ahead had split—unnaturally. As if something massive had passed through.

And there, embedded in the earth, was a stone marker etched with runes.

I stepped closer.

The runes glowed at my touch.

And then the voice returned. Louder this time. Clearer.

"You were not born. You were written."

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