The Loom shuddered again as Lucien stepped forward, his boots pressing into the golden threads without sinking. His masked face turned toward Ryan, but his eyes cold, sharp were fixed on the page in the Archivist's hand.
"Give it to me," Lucien said simply.
The Archivist didn't move. "You know the rules, Lucien. A memory page belongs to its author."
Lucien's voice was like steel. "Then I'll take the author."
Ryan stepped in front of Kate, his hand hovering near the diary in his jacket. "Not today."
Lucien tilted his head. "Do you really think you can stop me? You've lost your edge, Ryan. Too many lives have softened you."
Ryan's jaw tightened. "Or maybe I've learned what's worth protecting."
Lucien didn't reply. Instead, he lunged. The Loom around them rippled violently as the golden threads twisted into jagged shapes, reacting to his presence. Ryan blocked the first strike, but pain shot through his head images flooding his mind.
He saw a desert battlefield. He saw himself, centuries ago, standing over Lucien's broken body. He saw fire. Blood. A woman's face he couldn't place.
Kate's voice cut through the haze. "Ryan! What's happening?"
"Memory bleed," Ryan managed to say, pushing Lucien back. "The Loom connects to every life I've lived. If I'm not careful, I'll get lost in them."
The Archivist finally spoke, its voice heavy with authority. "Enough. This is not the place for your war."
The threads beneath their feet began to unravel, pulling them toward separate points in the weave.
Lucien snarled, reaching for Ryan again but the Loom tore him away into darkness.
Ryan grabbed Kate's hand. "Hold on."
A flash of light swallowed them.