The night was quiet in the Watchmaker's workshop, broken only by the faint ticking of countless gears. Timepieces of all sizes lined the walls, their hands moving in perfect synchrony as if responding to an unseen command. Orion sat at the center, his fingers brushing across a half-assembled pocket watch, though his thoughts were elsewhere.
For days, he had sensed something strange—a resonance in the air, like invisible threads tugging at his very existence. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see them: strands of faint golden light stretching outward, connecting him to people, places, and even moments that had yet to come.
He called it the Web of Fate.
At first, it frightened him. If every decision was tied to an invisible thread, was he truly free? Or was he just another gear in the vast machinery of destiny? Yet, the more he observed, the more he realized something else: the threads were not fixed. With enough focus, he could pull at one, slacken another, or even weave new ones.
Tonight, he decided to test it.
Orion reached for the thread that pulsed the strongest. It led him far beyond the city walls, into a village plagued by famine. A young girl sat in the dark, clutching her stomach in hunger, whispering a prayer to the stars. Orion felt the weight of her suffering as if it were his own.
He hesitated. If I interfere, am I bending fate—or breaking it?
The ticking around him grew louder, as though the clocks demanded an answer. Finally, Orion tightened his grip on the golden thread. A surge of power coursed through him, and in the girl's village, a miracle occurred: the rain, long absent, began to fall.
The girl looked up in awe, tears mixing with raindrops. Somewhere deep within the thread, Orion felt her gratitude ripple back to him.
But with that joy came something else. A shadow stirred.
Far away, in a cathedral shrouded in candlelight, a hooded figure snapped awake. His eyes glowed faintly crimson as he muttered, "So…the Watchmaker has touched the Loom."
Orion reeled back, gasping for breath as the thread burned hot in his grasp. He released it instantly, sweat dripping from his brow. The clocks in his workshop slowed, their ticks uneven, as though the entire room shuddered from what had just transpired.
He had confirmed his suspicion: altering destiny was possible. But it came with consequences. For every golden thread he touched, a darker one seemed to awaken.
Sitting alone in the dim light, Orion whispered to himself, "If I continue down this path… I'll be dragging enemies out of the shadows."
The ticking resumed, steady and calm, as if mocking his fear. Fate itself had noticed him—and it would not remain silent.