Chapter 18 – Soulweave
There was no sound.
No pain.
No sky.
Only light.
Lucia floated in it—not falling, not flying. Just existing. Weightless.
And then—threads.
They appeared around her like rivers of color: silver and obsidian, starlight and blood. They wove and unwove, branching endlessly, curling into futures yet unlived.
In the center of it all stood a loom.
Not mechanical.
Not divine.
Alive.
A Soulweaver.
She stepped toward it, breath caught.
And there—on the other side—was Xeno.
He looked younger. Unscarred. His aura flickered with grief, pride, violence… and love.
“You made it,” he whispered.
She reached out.
Their fingers didn’t touch—but the loom responded.
Between them, threads spun from shared heartbeats shimmered gold.
Strands born of betrayal pulsed deep blue.
Grief formed indigo bands.
Desire glowed crimson.
The loom asked nothing.
It simply waited.
She understood now.
This was the real ritual.
Not the altar.
Not the moons.