Kael Voss slammed onto a cold, glass floor.
He groaned, coughing as flickers of static danced across his arms. The air tasted like metal and burning ozone. Around him, the corridor pulsed with glowing thread-like strands—woven through the walls like circuits in a tapestry.
Time was alive.
A hundred clocks ticked out of sync. Some spun backward. Some melted. One screamed softly.
Kael pushed himself up. "Okay," he muttered, brushing ash off his jacket. "So either I'm high, or very, very fired."
The Weaver stood nearby, unmoving. Kael squinted. No visible face. No breathing. Just that silver mask, reflecting a thousand versions of him — angry, scared, laughing, dying.
"This is The Loom," the figure said. "It exists between seconds. Between consequences. And right now, you are an unauthorized ripple."
Kael snorted. "You kidnapped me into your… your IKEA hallway of doom, and you're calling me unauthorized?"
The Weaver raised a hand. Time slowed. Kael felt his blood thicken in his veins. Words stopped in his throat. His shadow twisted on the wall and formed a different version of himself — older, scarred, with eyes like burnt glass.
The Weaver spoke again, but this time the voice wasn't coming from outside.
It came from inside Kael's head.
"Listen carefully, Voss. You're not special. You're dangerous. You've died in six timelines already. In one, you destroyed Australia. In another, you were Australia."
Kael's eyes widened. "…Huh?"
"We don't want you for who you are. We want you for what you broke."
The glass under his feet shifted. A hologram flared to life, showing Kael standing over a battlefield — charred skies, ruined cities, a figure beside him holding a child. The same child from the noodle bar.
Then Kael shot him.
Twice.
Kael staggered back. "That—no. That didn't happen!"
"Not yet," said the Weaver. "But it will, unless you fix it. Or kill a different version of you that already has."
Kael blinked. "You want me… to time travel… to stop myself?"
"Exactly."
The Weaver tossed him a small black device, no larger than a coin. It pulsed with deep red light.
"The ThreadKey. Opens anchors across timelines. Fail a mission, and you're erased from every one of them."
Kael caught it reluctantly. "So, what? I'm like a time assassin now?"
"No," the Weaver said.
"Worse. You're a ChronoKnot."
Suddenly, a portal snapped open beside them — jagged, unstable, flickering between 1850s Tokyo and a medieval war zone.
"Mission starts now," said the Weaver. "Don't die. Again."
And Kael was yanked through the tear in time, screaming.