This rain is hitting my face like tiny fists, each drop actually stings and I can't even see where the hell my house is in all this mess, everything looks the same when it's this dark and wet.
Elias Reed fumbled with his keys outside 14 Willow Lane, the beige brick was dark with water, ivy dripping onto the porch like tears and he was already soaked through his work shirt. His data analyst job at Henderson & Associates kept him late again, Davidson's quarterly reports could wait until tomorrow, maybe forever if this storm kept up the way it was going.
I should've left work an hour ago, maybe two hours ago and this storm literally came from nowhere, weather app said clear skies until midnight.
The wind howled at about fifty kilometers per hour, rattling the single-story home's windows like dice in a cup and Elias finally got the door unlocked but something felt really wrong. Too quiet inside despite the storm raging outside, like the house was holding its breath.
Wait something's not right here, why is it so quiet when the storm should be echoing through the rooms?
A shadow moved behind him.
Before he could turn around, rough hands grabbed his shoulders and slammed him against the wet brick wall, the impact knocked all the air from his lungs. His glasses flew off, skittering across the porch like startled insects.
"What the hell—"
Pain exploded across his jaw, one of them hit him with something metal and his vision blurred but he could make out silver sigils on their cloaks. Hoods hid their faces completely, like death itself had come calling.
I can't breathe properly and they're dragging me, why are they SO STRONG? and this doesn't make any sense, people don't just get kidnapped from their own front door.
The taller one, maybe six feet, had a gaunt frame that moved like a scarecrow in wind and the other two were shorter, wiry but strong enough to haul Elias across the flooded street toward a van that hadn't been there five minutes ago. Where did that van come from, I would've noticed it when I got home.
"Please, I don't have much money, I'm just a data analyst—"
"Shut up" The leader's voice sounded like gravel in a blender. "You have something better"
They threw him into the back of the van, the metal floor was cold against his cheek and rain drummed on the roof as they drove east, away from Ashwood Heights. Five kilometers felt like fifty, felt like five hundred and every bump in the road sent fresh waves of panic through his chest.
This isn't really happening, this has to be some kind of nightmare and I'm going to wake up at my desk with coffee stains on Davidson's stupid reports and everything will be normal again, mom will call asking about dinner this weekend and I'll complain about my boss.
But the pain in his arms where they'd grabbed him was too real, the taste of blood in his mouth from the hit was too real and the smell of these men was too real, like old leather and something chemical.
The van stopped.
When they dragged him out Elias saw a warehouse, two hundred square meters of concrete and rust and graffiti in languages he didn't recognize. The fluorescent lights inside flickered with a sixty-hertz hum that made his teeth ache and somewhere in the distance he could hear machinery running.
"Bind his hands"
They used rope that smelled like chemicals, Elias tried to struggle but the shorter cultists were much stronger than they looked and his wrists burned from the friction, burned like acid eating through skin.
I'm really going to die here aren't I, nobody knows where I am and nobody's coming to help me, I should've called in sick today, should've left work early like Rose always tells me to do.
The leader produced a dagger, fifteen centimeters of metal that caught the fluorescent light wrong and runes were etched along the blade, symbols that hurt to look at directly like they were burning his retinas.
"The Weave Anchor chooses its bearer" the leader said, his voice echoing off the concrete walls. "Your bloodline called to it"
"I don't know what that means, please I have a sister, she's getting married next month—"
The blade moved faster than thought.
Oh God the pain, it's white hot across my throat and I can't scream, can't breathe, there's BLOOD EVERYWHERE and it's warm running down my chest and I can hear myself making these awful gurgling sounds, this is how I die, alone in a warehouse with people who don't even care that I'm a person.
Elias collapsed, the concrete was freezing against his skin and blood pooled in a half-meter circle around his head, spreading faster than seemed possible. The leader knelt beside him and forced something onto his right index finger with hands that felt like ice.
A ring, brass with runes that glowed amber and pulsed like a heartbeat.
"Conceptual bleeding completes the crossing" the leader whispered, his breath smelling like old copper. "Die here. Live there"
The warehouse dissolved into darkness and the last thing Elias felt was the ring burning against his finger like a brand.
---
God, it's so cold in here and everything feels wrong.
Wait something's really wrong with my body, everything feels different and my limbs are longer? My shoulders are way broader? What the hell happened to me and why don't I hurt anymore?
Alucent Luci opened his eyes in a Steamcottage that creaked with each gust of wind outside, the Ironvine Wood walls were solid but the storm was testing them. About twelve degrees Celsius according to the brass thermometer on the walnut study desk. His throat burned like he'd swallowed acid but it was a different kind of pain, older somehow.
What happened to me, was I dreaming? but dreams don't hurt this much and my throat feels like someone took sandpaper to it, also why do I remember being murdered?
The memories crashed together like waves against rocks, Elias Reed data analyst murdered in a warehouse, also Alucent Luci twenty-two years old living alone in Eryndral since his parents died three years ago. Both sets of memories felt completely real and both felt like his own life, like he'd lived them simultaneously.
The frosted glass windows rattled in their frames, through them he could see Ironvine trees bending in the wind, twenty-five to thirty-five meters tall with trunks scarred by old rune markings that glowed faintly in the storm light.
I'm not on Earth anymore am I? this can't be real but it FEELS real and everything looks different but familiar at the same time, like I've been here before in dreams I can't quite remember.
The realization should have terrified him but instead it felt like relief, like he'd been holding his breath for twenty-six years and could finally exhale, like coming home after being lost for way too long.
Alucent stood up from the walnut floor, six feet two inches now instead of five ten and his reflection in the study's small mirror showed a chiseled jaw, piercing blue eyes. Curly black hair down to his shoulders, pale skin that had never seen enough sunlight, way more attractive than Elias had ever been.
The clothes he wore were tattered linen, stained with mud and something darker that might've been blood. On his right index finger sat the brass ring from the warehouse, the Weave Anchor and its amber glow pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, warm against his skin.
A journal lay open on the desk beside a Runequill, the feather pen held amber ink that seemed to move on its own, worth about five Copperweaves according to Alucent's inherited memories. The journal's pages were filled with his father's handwriting, elegant script that looked like it belonged in a museum.
"The Luci bloodline carries the weight of unfinished work. The Loom of Threads remembers what was broken, what must be rebuilt"
Loom of Threads. what does that even mean? this is getting way more bizarre by the minute and I'm starting to think being murdered was actually the easy part.
Before he could read more a branch slammed against the cottage's front door, the Ironvine wood held but more branches were coming and the wind was getting stronger, howling like something alive and angry.
I need to secure this place properly, the roof's probably leaking again and there's always something breaking down in old houses like this, at least that's one thing that's the same between worlds.
Alucent's hands trembled as he moved through the cottage, the Steamsewer in the main room hissed steam at about seventy degrees and its brass boiler took up a full cubic meter but provided steady heat. The Forgepit basement smelled like coal dust and rust, with an anvil that had seen better decades.
Another branch hit the door, this time something cracked and the sound echoed through the cottage like a gunshot.
The Weave Anchor ring grew warmer against his finger, energy flowed up his arm like warm water and it felt really good, better than anything he'd ever experienced as Elias. Runeforce. His inherited knowledge whispered, the power that drove everything in Senele.
Without fully understanding why, Alucent pressed his palm against the cottage door, the ring's amber light intensified and Runeforce flowed through his fingers into the Ironvine Wood like liquid fire.
A Rune Circuit appeared under his touch, five centimeters square, glowing with stable amber light and humming with power. A protection rune, basic Thread 1 level work for a Runeling like himself.
The next branch that hit the door bounced off harmlessly like it had hit solid steel.
That actually worked and it feels amazing, like solving a complex data analysis problem but with actual magical feedback instead of just spreadsheets and endless meetings. This is REAL magic and I can do it.
His head started aching though, Shadowcage Taboos. his memories supplied, mental strain from overusing Runeforce without proper training and he probably shouldn't push it too hard on his first day.
The storm was getting worse, rain leaked through loose roof tiles in the study and pooled on the wooden floor. I need tools to fix this properly, can't let the place fall apart on my first day of being alive again.
Alucent wrapped himself in a threadbare coat and ventured outside into the storm, the Runepaths that connected Eryndral's buildings glowed faintly amber even in daylight. Copper strips half a meter wide, set into the ground to channel Runeforce between the town's Loom-Anchors.
A peddler's cart sat beneath an old Ironvine tree, the weathered man maybe five foot five was securing his wares against the wind with practiced movements, like he'd done this a thousand times before.
"Storm's getting rather fierce" the peddler called out over the wind. "Need anything before I pack up"
Alucent's frugal instincts from his life as Elias kicked in hard. "What've you got for roof repairs"
"Hammer and nails. Five Copperweaves"
That's like fifty cents in Earth money, actually a really fair price for decent tools and definitely better than what Home Depot would charge, plus no tax.
Alucent dug into his pocket and found the brass coins, Copperweaves were exactly what they sounded like, strips of copper etched with simple runes. The basic currency of Verdant Vale.
The peddler handed over a solid hammer and a pouch of iron nails with calloused hands. "You're the Luci boy aren't you, living in your parents' old place"
"Yeah. Trying to keep it from falling down"
"They were good people, shame what happened to them in that research accident" The peddler's expression darkened and he glanced around like someone might be listening. "Strange times we're living in. Runestorms getting stronger, shadows moving where they shouldn't"
Before Alucent could ask what he meant, thunder rolled across the sky, but this wasn't normal thunder, it was deeper, more musical like an orchestra tuning up. The lightning that followed was violet instead of white and it made the air taste like copper.
A Runestorm. His memories supplied the knowledge but not the experience, these storms amplified Runeforce across the entire region, made rune-tech more powerful but also much more dangerous.
"Best get inside" the peddler said, loading his cart with practiced efficiency. "Runestorms bring out things that are better left sleeping"
Alucent hurried back to his cottage, the roof repair took an hour of careful work, sealing the gaps with tar and repositioning loose tiles while violet lightning flickered overhead. His hands remembered skills that Elias had never learned, Alucent's childhood helping his researcher parents had taught him practical maintenance.
This work actually feels satisfying in a way that analyzing Davidson's quarterly reports never did, I'm creating something tangible here, fixing something that's actually BROKEN instead of just moving numbers around spreadsheets.
As he finished, the Runepaths in the street pulsed brighter with each flash of lightning, Glowroses in nearby gardens opened their clockwork petals like little machines, drinking in the storm's energy with soft whirring sounds.
Back inside, Alucent returned to his father's journal, the amber ink in the Runequill seemed more active now, swirling in patterns that almost formed words before dissolving back into liquid.
"The Loom of Threads weaves destiny itself" he read aloud. "But some threads have been cut, some patterns left incomplete. The Luci bloodline exists to repair what was broken"
What was broken and who BROKE it? this is getting weird even for what I assume is a fantasy world and I'm starting to think my parents' research accident wasn't really an accident.
The journal's next page showed a diagram that made his eyes water, geometric patterns that hurt to look at directly, four levels of reality with each one transcending the last. At the bottom labeled "Sands of IT" was Senele. At the top a formless void labeled "Roomless."
In between connected by flowing lines were the Sea of Gray and something called the Outrealm, in the Outrealm's section his father had drawn what looked like a loom, an actual weaving device but vast beyond comprehension.
"The Loom of Threads" Alucent whispered to the empty room. "It's actually real"
The Weave Anchor ring pulsed with warmth, knowledge flowed into his mind like water through a broken dam, not memories this time but pure information that felt like it was burning itself into his brain.
The Loom of Threads existed in the Outrealm, weaving the very fabric of reality itself, every world, every life, every possibility was a thread in its cosmic tapestry. But something was really wrong with it, threads were fraying, patterns were becoming chaotic and reality was starting to come apart at the seams.
And somehow the Luci bloodline was connected to fixing it.
But that's impossible, I'm just a data analyst who got murdered by cultists, how the hell am I supposed to fix REALITY itself and why would anyone think I'm qualified for cosmic repair work?
Except he wasn't anymore, he was Alucent Luci. Runeling of the First Thread, carrying the legacy of parents who had died trying to understand forces beyond mortal comprehension.
Outside, the Runestorm intensified, violet lightning split the sky every few seconds and the cottage's protection rune held steady but Alucent could feel the strain. Too much mystical energy flowing through untrained channels, like trying to run a river through a garden hose.
That's when he heard the footsteps.
Slow deliberate steps on the Runepath outside his door, not the hurried pace of someone seeking shelter from the storm but someone walking with purpose despite the chaos overhead, someone who knew exactly where they were going.
The footsteps stopped directly outside his cottage.
My heart is racing and the trauma from that warehouse is rushing back hard, being grabbed, dragged, murdered and my hands are shaking as I approach this window. It could be anyone, maybe a neighbor checking if I'm alright, someone lost in the storm looking for help.
But the rational part of his mind, the part that had survived twenty-six years of being careful with money and cautious with trust whispered otherwise.
The footsteps were way too measured, too patient.
But no it can't be someone lost, it looks like someone who knew EXACTLY where they were going, like they came here specifically for me and that's really bad news.
Through the distorted glass Alucent could make out a figure standing in the storm, human shaped but details were impossible to see clearly through the rain. They weren't moving toward the door or away from it.
Just waiting.
The Runestorm thunder rolled again deeper than before, the cottage's protection rune flickered and for just a moment the amber light wavered like a candle in wind.
In that moment of weakness the figure outside moved.
Not toward the door.
Toward the window.
Where Alucent was watching.
The Weave Anchor ring burned against his finger like a brand, Runeforce surged through his body unbidden, a response to some primal danger his conscious mind hadn't yet recognized but his soul knew was coming.
Whatever's outside knows I'm watching them and they're not trying to hide it.
And they're looking right back at me, oh God OH GOD what do they want and why do they feel so familiar?