The night pressed in, thick with the scent of salt and the hush of the waves. Felix stood where sea met sand, his silhouette etched against the restless water. In his hand, the threads shimmered—each one a secret, each one a memory pulled from the loom's wheel above.
He watched the sky, where the great wheel spun slowly among the clouds, its spokes glinting with starlight. The threads that descended from it tugged gently at his hand, as if urging him to step forward, to wade into the unknown. The words from the tapestry's edge echoed in his mind: In the tides of time, every thread holds a secret.
Behind him, the city's lights flickered. Somewhere, his friends slept or kept their own vigils, each haunted by the aftermath of the Silent Convergence and the Herald's warning. The storm had passed, but the sea was never truly calm.
A sudden gust of wind whipped the threads, and for a moment, Felix saw visions in their shifting light:
—A child hiding a letter beneath a floorboard.
—A woman staring out to sea, waiting for a ship that would never return.
—A shadow slipping through the alleys, clutching a stolen relic.
Felix's heart pounded. The loom was showing him the city's secrets—the ones that threatened to unravel the peace they had fought so hard to restore.
He drew the threads closer, focusing on one that pulsed brightest. It led his gaze to the far end of the shore, where a figure knelt in the sand. The moonlight revealed a young woman, her cloak tattered, her hands trembling as she dug at the wet earth.
Felix approached quietly. "Are you lost?"
The woman startled, clutching something to her chest—a small, ornate box, its surface etched with the same pattern as the loom's wheel.
"I… I didn't mean to disturb anything," she whispered. "I just needed to hide this. If they find it, everything will change."
Felix knelt beside her, the threads in his hand glowing brighter. "Who are you hiding it from?"
She glanced over her shoulder, fear etched in every line of her face. "The Watchers. They're searching for the box. They say it holds a thread that doesn't belong—a secret that could unravel the city."
Felix felt the loom's power thrumming in the air. He understood now: the next unraveling would not come from a storm or a distant mountain, but from the secrets buried in the city's heart.
He offered the woman his hand. "Let me help. The loom brought me here for a reason. We'll face this together."
She hesitated, then placed the box in his palm. It was warm, almost alive, and as Felix touched it, a new thread spun out from the wheel above, connecting them both.
The waves surged, and Felix knew the tide was turning. The next chapter of the city's fate would be written not by storms or shadows, but by the courage to face the secrets hidden beneath the surface.
As the first light of dawn touched the horizon, Felix and the woman stood together at the edge of the sea, the box between them, the threads of fate weaving a new pattern in the tapestry of unraveling hours.