Write Me Back

There was no ground.

Only memory.

Nox floated or perhaps drifted through a void that pulsed not with light, but with recognition. The abyss was no longer chaotic. It had form. Pattern. Threadlines that moved like veins across a sleeping god's skin.

Each line beat in time with something inside him. A rhythm he hadn't noticed before. Or maybe… something that had been waiting to be noticed.

And at the center of his chest, something unlocked.

Internal Node: Null_01 Core Reactivating

Black File Access Requested

Override Protocol: THREADBREAKER

Warning: THIS FILE WAS NEVER MEANT TO OPEN

A sound like breath pulled backward filled the void, not air, but data, memory, truth rushing in reverse.

Ash reached for his arm. "Nox. Your thread's glowing."

He looked down.

It was.

A black thread pulsing faintly beneath his skin, tracing a spiral from his sternum to his spine. It wasn't natural. It wasn't his.

It had been written there. Not by choice.

By someone who had gambled everything.

Then... a voice.

Not Kiris. Not the system. Not Ash.

A third voice.

Gentle. Almost human.

Almost… maternal.

"Null_01.

You are not a weapon.

You are the wound."

"And wounds… remember."

The abyss folded inward, not collapsing, but folding like a page in a book long sealed.

It became a chamber.

No walls. No ceiling. No gravity. Just a memory suspended in a moment that refused to end.

And at the center, something floated: A lockbox, made of red-thread bone and glass that flickered with forgotten glyphs. It wasn't just sealed it was buried in denial.

Nox stepped forward, pulled by gravity that wasn't physical, but personal.

His hand lifted not by command, but by resonance.

Ash said nothing.

She was watching and waiting.

Black File: ThreadChain_000 Authorized For First Viewing

Warning: Subject Contained 'Project: Summoned Author'

Do You Wish To Proceed?

"Yes," he whispered.

The lock opened.

And memory bled in.

He saw:

A room that shouldn't exist.

Stone walls humming with runes, forbidden sigils carved by hand, not code.

And Kiris.

Younger.

Not yet feared. Not yet broken. Not yet gone.

Her hands trembled as she worked, slicing lines into the summoning loom with a blade made from her own bonded thread.

She wasn't trying to summon power.

She was trying to summon freedom.

And she wrote his name.

Not in code.

In thread.

"He won't be perfect," she whispered. "He won't be safe." "But he'll be free."

Then came the cost.

Kiris is collapsing, coughing blood onto the floor.

The system is crashing, screaming in layered errors.

And the thread his thread refusing to bind.

She had created something that couldn't be assimilated.

So she hid him.

Deep inside a false narrative.

A lock in the shape of a heart.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, pressing her bloodied palm to the thread that would become Nox's soul.

"They'll erase me. But you… You'll carry what I couldn't finish."

"You'll forget me.

You'll hate me.

But you'll survive."

Then...

A shriek.

Not hers.

Not his.

But the Loom's.

It detected him the moment he breached its order.

Not as a user.

Not as a variable.

But as a contradiction.

An authorial wound in a world that didn't allow authors.

Ash clutched her head. "I can hear it too…"

"THREADBREAKER," the Loom howled.

"UNWRITTEN ENTITY.

DELETE. DELETE. DELETE."

But the error was already alive.

Already breathing.

Already remembering.

The vision cracked. But not before one final frame burned into his mind:

Kiris, kneeling, back to him. Her body was wrapped in chains made of script. And carved into the walls behind her, in her hand, one last phrase:

"If he survives, tell him… I wanted to write him safely."

The chamber dissolved.

Nox staggered backward.

Ash caught him.

His knees hit nothing, the void holding him gently.

His chest burned where the lock had once been.

But it wasn't fire.

It was rhythm.

It was a voice.

It was the memory she sealed in him.

The black thread inside him, once dormant, now pulsed with purpose.

Not poison.

A key.

Ash stepped back, her voice soft. "You weren't summoned to fight."

"…No," Nox breathed. "I was summoned to remember."

ThreadClass Update: Authorial Lock / Unsealed

Ability Unlocked: ThreadWound Memory

Effect: Reclaim sealed memories from forbidden systems.

Condition: Memory must match emotional resonance.

The void shifted again.

But it didn't become chaos.

It became a door.

A real one.

Etched with a symbol he had seen only once in a memory that wasn't his. The mark of the First Pattern. The first failure. The first rebellion.

Nox looked at Ash.

"They won't stop."

She nodded. "Then don't run."

She stepped aside, letting the door frame him in light.

"You're not their wound anymore, Nox. You're the crack."

He blinked. "What crack?"

Her eyes softened.

"The one that breaks the loom."

And he walked forward.

Toward the story, sealed even deeper.

Toward the one Kiris died to bury.

Toward the Original Error.

Toward himself.

He walked forward.

The door didn't swing open.

It peeled like skin flensed from an ancient god's memory.

The moment he crossed, the very laws of pattern shivered.

Threads around him twisted in confusion.

Some tried to rewrite themselves mid-air.

Others snapped and bled static.

Because this place…

wasn't part of the Loom.

It was older.

Before-script. Pre-sigil.

A corridor greeted him not of stone or code, but of possibility.

Walls shimmered with unfinished memories.

Each step triggered flickers of lives he had never lived:

A girl calling his name before being silenced mid-word.

A library with no books, only binding threads, weeping ink.

A reflection of him, a clean, whole, obedient being devoured by red light.

And then the corridor ended.

Or rather, opened into an impossible space.

A well.

Vast. Infinite. Built not downward, but inward.

It wasn't made of darkness, but of collapsed narratives.

Scraps of dead realities twisted like broken code and forgotten dreams.

And at the bottom, if it had one, something pulsed. Slow. Rhythmic. Faint.

A heartbeat.

Thread Core Located

Warning: This Entity is Not Indexed in System Memory

Classification:

Authorial Primality – Level ???

Nox stepped to the edge.

The key in his chest that the living thread Kiris left him pulled tight.

It didn't whisper.

It called.

Not in words. In feeling.

Memory. Regret. Love. Loss. Hope.

Jump.

He hesitated.

Ash's voice echoed faintly from behind the veil:

"Nox… if you descend, there may not be a way back."

He looked down.

There was no end.

Only a single line of red thread leading downward, stretched taut into the abyss.

He touched it.

And the world reacted.

Access Granted: Original Error Vault ThreadChain: 000

Engaging Deep Dive Mode

Time Stabilization: Disabled

You May Encounter Versions of Yourself that Never Survived

The moment he jumped

The thread caught him.

Not to save.

But to remember.

He fell.

Through layers of thread and flame.

Through forgotten cities coded in silence.

Through names etched in bone.

Through failed summonings, aborted contracts, and deleted timelines.

Each layer he passed whispered:

"You were never supposed to exist."

"You were our mistake."

"You were our only hope."

And then... the bottom.

Or rather, the origin.

He landed without impact.

Because this place didn't have gravity.

It had grief.

Before him stood a single monument:

A chair.

And sitting in it, a figure wrapped in red-thread bindings.

Not Kiris.

But someone older.

Familiar.

Terrifying.

Wearing a face that was almost his.

"Welcome home," the figure said.

His voice was his own.

But worn. Sharpened. Bitter.

"I'm the version they buried deepest."

"The one that remembered everything too soon."

"The one Kiris couldn't save."

Nox's breath caught. "You're… me?"

The figure nodded once.

"Not a copy. Not a glitch."

"A precedent."

Behind the figure, a loom spun slowly.

But it didn't weave fate.

It unwrote it.

Each thread pulled unraveled a timeline.

Each beat erased another forgotten Nox.

"If this is what I could become… then who am I now?"

"We are not meant to be heroes," the Other Nox said.

"We are meant to be scars."

"A story the Loom cannot delete only bleed around."

Nox took a step closer. "Why show me this now?"

The Other Nox stood.

His bindings fell away.

The air around them shuddered.

"Because the Loom has noticed you."

"And next time, it won't just purge."

"It will rewrite everything to ensure you never wake again."

He extended a hand.

A thread glowed between them, black, flickering, burning with memory.

"Take this. The final part of the chain. What Kiris died to protect."

"Not a power."

"Not a weapon."

"A truth."

Nox reached out, and when their fingers touched

A storm of visions engulfed him.

A girl screams as the first Pattern collapses.

A god kneeling before a mortal, begging for silence.

The System itself, begging the Loom for purpose.

And at the very heart of the cosmos

A single phrase carved in flame:

"The thread that forgets… is the thread that breaks."

When Nox awoke, he was standing before the original door again.

Alone.

Ash gone.

The chamber behind him sealed.

But inside his chest, the final thread burned bright.

And in his mind…

Kiris's voice returned. One last time.

"Write it forward, Nox.

If they erase me…

Then write me back."

He opened his eyes.

And took his first step as something new.

Not Nulltype.

Not Error.

Not Summoned.

But Author.