Morning sunlight set the rooftops of Velgarth aglow as I walked toward the Grand Hall, its high windows burning bright. My boots rang out on the polished stone, each step a careful one. Beside me, the City of Threads awoke: vendors bellowing goods, children running between stalls, and courtiers rushing for favor. But here, at the entrance to power's core, all was strangely quiet—as though the city itself were holding its breath.
The façade of the Grand Hall ascended like a cathedral of destiny: columns that were carved with infinite braids and crumbling sigils, statues of mythic Fateweavers guarding. Over the doorway, a large relief showed two hands intertwining threads into being. Below that, the letters inscribed in ancient script: "All Paths Begin and End Here." I laid my fingers on the cold stone, sensing its hum—resonance of all fates ever woven within those walls.
My cloak dropped back to show the Ashmark's spiral across my heart. I had honed my ability to keep it from glowing every night, but here, before the gaze of a thousand people, I let only a small flicker escape—enough to warn them it was there. Two palace guards in shiny armor tipped their heads in curt greeting as I went by, their train-like eyes on my mark. Even they, bound to serve order, were drawn by it.
The great chamber was a vaulted room of immense size. Tapestries adorned the walls, each one depicting a separate legend of Fate's great tapestry: heroes sworn by oath, empires welded by promise, destinies unwinding in tragedy. Along the far end, a raised platform looked out over the assembly. Atop it was placed a long table upon which the Council of Twelve—delegates of each noble house—took their places. Between them sat Marshal Calder, his eyes as unyielding as sculpted marble.
I mounted the stairs, giving a brief nod to each of the councilors in turn. Some inclined their heads in return; others simply glared with masked contempt. I climbed to the dais and confronted the gathering. The marble below was inscribed with the Great Star: silver beams spreading from its hub, golden fragments shattering at the periphery—a fitting emblem of both order and disunion.
Calder stood, robes rustling silk, and raised a hand. "Kai Morel," he said. "You are charged with treason, conspiracy with outlaw orders, and calling forth forbidden powers. How do you plead?"
I looked him in the eye, voice steady. "I plead not guilty to all charges. I stand here as a convicted man only because lies were woven into my name."
A murmur ran through the hall. A councilor leaned forward. "Prove it, boy. Show us the proof of your innocence—or confess and spare us the charade."
I indicated to my scribe, who unrolled a vellum scroll. Sigils ran dim along its borders—proof of their authenticity. "This journal," I said, "holds the names of those who brought me low. Every record bound by mortal tongue… yet only this sigil can stir their truth." I pushed back my cloak to expose the Ashmark in its entirety. Its spiral throbbed, silver filaments interlacing into sight.
The air remained still. A silence deeper than that which stood between us fell like a shroud. I concentrated on the ledger, willing its runes to glimmer. "Speak the first name."
A shaking clerk cleared his throat and read: "Baron Helric Sarn… admitted to counterfeiting documents incriminating Kai Morel for sedition."
At my command, the Ashmark burst into flame. A heartbeat after, a thread of light lanced from my chest to the scroll, etching the name. The parchment rippled like living flesh. Helric went ashen and gripped the armrest. "Lies!" he rasped.
"Lies," I repeated. "But now bound with evidence." I addressed Calder. "Is that enough?"
Calder's jaw did work. He relaxed his mouth, then slammed it shut. Behind him, Lysanne's green eyes glowed with subdued triumph.
A cry went up from the benches. "Sorcery!" a woman shouted. "Dark magic!
I descended from the podium, ledger in hand. "Magic? No," I replied, "truth." The Ashmark shone firm, no longer wavering. "This world's fate is founded upon tales. I present a new one—a tale of honesty, if you will accept it."
Calder's expression turned black as night. He lifted his hand. "Take him away!"
Two guards leapt forward. I raised the ledger as a shield. Runes came alive, a dome of light shimmering above. The guards halted, eyes wide open. Pawns, helpless, they stumbled backward until the dome fell apart, leaving them undamaged but shaken.
"The Ashmarked commands reality," I said. "Not by will, but by the weight of truth.
Calder glared at me as the council murmured. They stood one by one—some in shock, some in wonder. At last, Calder spoke: "Your display has disturbed us, but the law holds firm. You will face trial again—following an investigation. For the moment, you are. under guard."
I bowed my head. "So be it."
As the guards approached, Lysanne stepped out of the darkness. She glided alongside me, fingers touching mine. "Well done," she whispered. "But their fear will become wrath."
I nodded. "Then we provide them with cause to quake."
That night, under the dusk that bled crimson across Velgarth, I sat in a smaller room—no chains, but a guard outside. I ran my fingers over the Ashmark contemplatively. Tomorrow's question would probe deeper, and I needed new strands to weave.
Lysanne waited, resting against a wooden table. Her dagger between us, its blade inscribed with the same sigils I'd seen under the Grand Hall. "We have allies," she said. "The Unbound in the Underways. They know how to cut through lies."
I opened the ledger. "And what will they ask for their assistance?"
Her lips twisted. "Their own terms."
I examined the room's single lamp, its flame dancing like a faltering truth. "We will pay," I declared. "If it purchases us a possibility to rewrite all untrue destinies."
She laughed, a fierce light in her eyes. "Then we shall start."
I closed the book and stood up, shoulders squared. "Tomorrow, destiny comes untangled."
And as the lamp flickered, I prepared to yank the first thread.