The plan was reckless.
Infiltrate the Council's sanctum during Threadfall—when the protective veils lowered to absorb the skies' energy. For exactly thirteen minutes, the inner chamber would be vulnerable.
That's when we'd strike.
We moved through the tower's underlayers like ghosts—Kael leading us through side vaults and shadowed stairs long erased from official maps. Every stone whispered betrayal. Every turn felt like a test.
Riven stayed close to me, his steps still heavy from the seal's drain.
"You okay?" I asked quietly.
"I will be," he said. "Once we're out of this place for good."
Kael paused at a tall door etched in spirals of pure silver thread.
"The Threadwell," he breathed.
The last place the First Weavers gathered.
The place where all threads began—and ended.
He pressed a blood-soaked glyph to the seal. The door melted open, revealing a wide circular chamber that hummed like a heart.
Thread rivers ran along the walls, glowing every color imaginable—amber, violet, rose, and deep crimson. In the center stood the Well itself—a basin suspended in air, slowly spinning threads through space like a loom without hands.
"It's alive," I whispered.
Kael nodded. "And if the prophecy is right, it remembers."
We stepped toward it.
Suddenly—movement.
Figures emerged from the shadows: Council Sentinels.
Three of them.
Threadblades drawn.
"You've broken sacred law," one hissed, his face hidden by a gold-veiled helm. "The Marked are forbidden from this place."
Kael reached for his blade—but I stepped forward first.
"I'm not here for permission," I said.
I raised my hand and let the Desire Mark flare.
The threads in the room responded—glowing red-gold, pulsing with heat and truth.
The Sentinels staggered back.
The Threadwell began to spin faster, responding to me. To Riven.
To us.
The basin's light lifted, swirling around our bodies like flame and wind.
And in that moment, I saw everything:
A vision of the past—the First Bonds. A vision of the future—a world free from forced paths. A vision of us—Sera and Riven, standing not as fugitives…
…but as the new bearers of thread.
Riven reached out, hand touching mine.
"I feel it too," he said softly. "This is where everything changes."
I nodded. "This is where we begin."
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