The sky in the Hollowed Realm never truly darkened. It just stopped pretending to shine.
Jin sat at the edge of a broken threadway, legs dangling over a void where fate had never formed. Below him, ghost-light stirred—memories that had never been born, whispering fragments in voices he recognized but could no longer name.
Ahri was gone.
Not in body. Not even in spirit.
But in something else—something finer. More fragile.
She had stepped into a place where the Loom did not watch, and he could no longer follow. Not fully.
And yet, he felt her still. A faint pull. Not like a tether, but like an afterimage blinking at the edge of memory.
"She's unraveling," he murmured.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
He turned.
Aya stood behind him, leaning lightly on a broken staff, the remnants of her Hollowed sigils still flickering faintly down her left arm. Her gaze was calm. Sharp. Not unkind—but unapologetic.
"She's breaking open," Jin said. "That's not the same as becoming."
Aya sat beside him. "You sound like someone who believes in fixed forms."
"I believe in memory."
She tilted her head. "And what if memory is just the Loom's way of keeping you docile?"
Jin didn't answer.
"Let me guess," Aya said. "You think you're protecting her."
"I am," he said. "I always have."
"No," she said gently. "You've always been watching her. And waiting for her to return to who you think she is."
Jin looked down. The void below twisted in response.
Aya continued, softer now. "She's walking into something you can't chart. You're afraid of her getting lost. But what if she's afraid of being found... only as the girl you once knew?"
He clenched his fists. "I don't want to lose her."
"Then don't," Aya said. "But don't stand in the way of who she's becoming. You can't keep holding the past in place with both hands and expect the future to welcome you."
Jin breathed in slowly.
Then exhaled.
He reached into his robes and withdrew a small object—a charm Ahri had given him long ago. The thread around it was frayed now, but the knot held.
He tied it around his wrist, not as a bond, but as a reminder.
"I won't stop her," he said. "But I won't vanish either. If she calls—I'll answer."
Aya smiled.
"Then maybe you're not as lost as you think."
The void below shimmered. One thread lit up, faint but steady.
Somewhere, Ahri was still weaving.
And Jin would not let that go unseen.