The Loom was breathing.
Not with lungs or wind, but with a rhythm older than words—a pulse that throbbed beneath Obavva's feet, syncing with her heartbeat until she couldn't tell where her blood ended and the memory began.
It was terrifying.
It was divine.
"You must bleed into it," Ayana said, standing beside her. "Only then will it show you what's been stolen from you."
Obavva hesitated. "What if I see something I cannot bear?"
Ayana's eyes, clouded and ancient, did not flinch."Then you bear it anyway. That's what Keepers do."
The ritual chamber smelled of jasmine, ash, and time.
Obavva stood alone in a ring of salt, a ceremonial blade in her hand—etched with the names of past Keepers long turned to dust. The Loom shimmered before her like a curtain of liquid glass, whispering in lost tongues.
With one deep breath, she pressed the blade to her palm.
And cut.
Blood met crystal.
The Loom roared to life.
Flashes.
Shards.
Dreams cracking like thunder.
She was falling through time.
—A girl, barefoot, standing beside a corpse in chains.—A mother screaming as her child was branded as property.—A woman flung from the ramparts, her ideas heavier than her body.—A library burned for housing female scribes.
And then—herself.
But not as she remembered.
She was a child again, standing outside her family's home in Chitradurga. Her father arguing with soldiers. Her mother crying in silence. A door slammed. And then…
A cloaked figure stepping out of the shadows.
Not a soldier.
Not a thief.
But a woman.
She pressed a pendant into Obavva's hand.
"Keep it close," the woman whispered. "For when the tunnel calls you."
Obavva gasped.
That woman… was Ayana.
The vision snapped.
Obavva stumbled backward, palm still bleeding.
"You visited me as a child," she said, panting. "Why?"
Ayana stepped forward, face unreadable. "Because we knew one day, the Eye would find you."
"You planted the Root in me."
"No. We didn't plant it. We merely uncovered it."
Obavva's eyes narrowed. "What does that mean?"
Ayana looked to the Loom. "It means your blood is older than you think."
Later that night, Reva cornered her beside the firelit basin.
"You okay?" she asked, voice low.
Obavva nodded, but her eyes were storming. "There's something they're not telling me. Something about my family."
Reva hesitated. "Your mother… she was one of them, wasn't she?"
Obavva flinched.
"How did you—?"
"She wore Root markings. I saw them once. You were too young."
Obavva's hands trembled. "She died in the famine. At least, that's what I was told."
Reva touched her shoulder. "Maybe it's time we stop trusting what we were told."
The next morning, Obavva demanded answers.
Ayana said nothing at first. Then she reached into her robes and pulled out a bundle wrapped in rootcloth.
Inside: a scroll.
A genealogy.
Obavva unrolled it with shaking fingers.
There, inked in red, was a name she'd never seen
Anika of the Stone Circle.
Beside it: "The Bloodmother. Rootbearer Prime."
Her mother's name.
Obavva's breath caught.
"She wasn't just a Keeper," Ayana said gently. "She was the originator of the modern Root."
Obavva stumbled back, the truth slamming into her chest like a blade.
"They lied to me," she whispered.
"They always do," Ayana replied.
Outside, the ground shook.
Kaashi burst in, her face pale. "Trouble."
"What kind?" Reva asked, already strapping on her blades.
Kaashi pulled back a curtain to reveal smoke rising beyond the ridge. "The Eye isn't dead. It's splintered. And one of its shards found a host."
Ayana's face darkened. "A Shardhost…"
Obavva's voice was steel. "Where?"
"East tunnel. Near the abandoned salt mine."
Ayana turned to her. "You're not ready"
Obavva didn't wait.
She grabbed her pestle, strapped her Rootcloth tighter, and was gone before the sentence ended.
The Salt Mines.
It reeked of sulfur and betrayal.
The deeper they went, the more distorted reality became walls curved, shadows moved without light, and the air thrummed like it hated them.
Obavva, Kaashi, and Reva moved silently.
Then, from the darkness:
A figure-slim, robed, head bowed.
A voice like rotting silk."You took our Eye, tunnel-rat. But the Mouth still speaks."
The figure lifted its head.
Its eyes were blank.
No iris. No soul.
Just two black voids where vision should be.
Obavva gritted her teeth. "You're the Shardhost."
It smiled. "I am memory devoured. And now, I'll return the favor."
The battle was chaos wrapped in nightmare.
The Shardhost moved like smoke, twisting reality with every scream.
Kaashi tried to flank but was thrown across the mine wall.
Reva's blade melted in her hand, warped by illusion.
Obavva stood alone.
But this time, she wasn't just fighting as a woman.
She was fighting as a Keeper.
As the bloodline of Anika.
She slammed her pestle into the salt floor.
Root glyphs erupted, wrapping around her arms, crawling up her throat.
The Shardhost lunged
Obavva caught its face mid-air and whispered a single word:
"Remember."
Light burst from her palm.
The Loom's echo answered.
The Shardhost screamed—not in pain, but in clarity—as the fragments of stolen memory reentered it, overwhelming the falsehoods it thrived on.
It shattered like glass struck by thunder.
Silence fell.
The salt cracked under their feet.
Reva helped Kaashi to her feet. "Remind me never to question her again."
Back at the chamber, Ayana met her with a bow.
"You carry more than blood now," she said softly. "You carry the fate of remembrance."
Obavva didn't answer.
She simply walked up to the Loom.
And for the first time, placed her full hand upon it.
No fear.
No doubt.
Only light.
And in that light
The past began to speak again.
End of Chapter Fifteen