Echoes of a Threaded World
helloooo, i write this for fun, and it's also not my first language at all, soooo.
He woke up alone.
Cold.
In a forgotten workshop, dust thick in the air.
No past. No memory.
Just a name and hands that remembered things he did not.
Beyond the fog lay the city of Velrith, a place where unseen forces collided.
Giants who never cared where they stepped: the Crown, the Companies, the Circles.
Each smiling through clenched teeth, each holding weapons the others dared not unleash.
The Garde watched the streets.
The Garde Royale moved in the shadows.
The Nobility hid behind masks.
The Companies behind contracts.
And somewhere beyond the fog the Xenio worked in silence, answering to no one, owing allegiance to no one.
In this fragile balance of power, his arrival was... unwelcome.
He was not meant to be here.
Worse, his body remembered how to survive.
How to fight.
How to hide.
How to kill.
The first lie was that no one remembered him.
Now the factions were listening. Watching. Questioning.
Had someone brought him back?
He didn’t know who he was.
He didn’t know why he was here.
But something had brought him there.
And something else was watching.
He was not supposed to wake up, he-
§§ LOG INTERRUPTED§§
Unauthorized recall request detected.
Signal rerouting…
Processing anomaly…
Who are you?
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The Rien’s Workshop2025-07-09 18:24
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