Chapter 6: Ash and Threadfire
The spear struck like thunder.
The etched head, once dull black, burned with pale fire as it drove into the Warden's ward. For an instant, the air screamed, a sharp, tearing note that made the courtyard itself tremble.
And then the impossible happened.
The ward split.
The glow spiderwebbed, cracked apart like glass under a hammer, and the spear punched clean through the man's chest. Blood spattered hot against Elias's hands, the light of the Loom flickering as the Warden staggered, eyes wide, he fell with a wet gasp, hitting the ash stained stones hard.
The others froze, for one heartbeat, the courtyard was still. Even the bells went silent.
Lysera stared, lips parted, crossbow half raised but forgotten, Noll's jaw slackened, his bent sword hanging loose, Elvi's bowstring quivered as she held her last arrow, but her hands shook, Tamsin had disbelief etched into her face.
None of them said it, but every one of them knew, Outsiders didn't weave, Outsiders couldn't do this.
The Prelate's pleasant mask cracked, his voice, when it came, was sharper, laced with hunger. "So, that's what you are."
Elias barely heard him.
The hum inside him surged, hot and insistent, flooding his body, his chest no longer burned with every breath, his legs carried him faster than his size should allow, his arms no longer trembling from strain. He felt every thread in the ground, every fracture in the air, every stagger in the Wardens' chant.
He was alive in a way he hadn't been since before the fire. Since before Ava passed. Since before everything had gone to ash.
Another glaive slashed down, Elias spun his spear, the glow trailing a faint arc through the air, and met it. The impact shuddered, but the weapon didn't break. Instead, the resonance bucked back into the Warden's arms, sending him stumbling with a curse.
"Get back!" Elias barked. His voice cracked like command, the kind that belonged on battlefields, the Grey Hook fell in behind his motion without thought, instinctively trusting the impossible strength in his stance.
The Wardens rallied, their voices rose in jagged prayer, the bells chiming in rhythm again, light flared along their armor, brighter, angrier, a shield woven of pure defiance.
Elias didn't falter, he lunged, spear thrusting, the glow punched into one Warden's ward, grinding, forcing it back. Sparks of threadlight spat from the impact. The man braced, chanting louder, sweat streaking his face as he fought to hold the weave.
The Prelate stepped closer, eyes locked on Elias "you don't even understand what you're doing." His lips twisted, half smile, half-snarl "and yet the Loom answers you."
"Don't care," Elias rasped, he shoved harder, the ward cracked, his spear slipped through and tore a red line across the Warden's chest. The man cried out, stumbling back, his prayer broken.
Lysera fired, her bolt striking another in the thigh, Noll screamed and hacked down with raw strength, his bent blade biting deep into the gap Elias had opened, the Warden collapsed.
The tide turned.
But the Prelate raised his hand, the bells tolled thrice, perfectly in tune, and the courtyard floor split with glowing lines that whipped upward like snakes.
"Shit," Elias spat, dragging Rook back with his foot, the pup snarled, silver eyes blazing, fur bristling as if he saw the threads too.
The glowing strands lashed for them, wrapping around Elias's spear, his arms, his legs. He strained, every muscle screaming.
And the weave inside him flared.
Light poured across his skin, faint but undeniable, veins glowing with pale fire, his burns seared, his ribs ached, but the Loom reinforced him, pushing his body harder, stronger. His grip tightened, the spear pulsed, the etchings blazing brighter, burning the strands where they touched.
The threads recoiled.
The Grey Hook froze, staring, Lysera's lips parted, whisper caught in her throat.
Elias staggered upright, chest heaving, the spear still glowing like a coal pulled from a furnace.
Rook pressed against his heel, a low, deliberate growl in his throat, Elias glanced down, the cub's eyes met his, silver reflecting the same light crawling across his skin. For a heartbeat, it was like they were in rhythm together.
Elias grinned through blood and sweat, savage and defiant "not done yet."
He roared, driving forward, spear cutting a blazing arc toward the next Warden's chest
The Warden in front of him barely had time to finish his prayer.
Elias's spear cut through the ward like a blade through wet cloth, pale light flaring as threads snapped, the etched head slammed into the man's breastplate, splitting chain, forcing blood up in a wet spray. The Warden staggered back, choking, and crumpled against the basin with a rattle of steel.
The others roared in fury, their voices rose higher, faster, desperate to drown him out with their chants, the bells tolled in manic rhythm, ringing wrong, grinding against his skull.
Elias pressed forward, his body moved smoother than it ever had, like the Loom itself filled the gaps where pain had always slowed him. His burned back didn't seize. His lungs pulled air without rasp. The hum in his ribs was no longer something he endured, it was fuel.
The next glaive came sweeping low, fast as a scythe. Elias pivoted, spear trailing a streak of white light as it slammed down. Sparks of threadfire spat across the stones, the Warden's ward flashing as the two weapons locked. Elias snarled and shoved, every fiber of his body surging with borrowed strength. The Warden buckled, stumbling.
Elvi's last arrow whistled past Elias's shoulder and buried itself in the man's exposed throat, the Warden gagged, fell to one knee, then pitched sideways, prayer silenced.
"That's two!" Elvi shouted, voice shaking with something between terror and awe.
Noll waded in beside Elias, blade bent but swinging with raw farmer's grit, he hacked at a distracted Warden's leg, sparks flying as his strike scraped warded mail. The man reeled back, and Elias took the opening, his spear thrust clean, the glow cutting through like nothing the Grey Hook had ever seen.
"Three!" Elias barked, voice like command on a battlefield.
Lysera fired another bolt, pinning a fourth through the shoulder, he shrieked, stumbling into one of his brothers. The two tangled, momentum faltering, Tamsin grabbed a rock from the ground and smashed it into the man's helm with a medic's fury, he went down in a heap.
The tide was shifting, for the first time since they'd fled the safehouse, the Grey Hook weren't running, they were winning.
But the Prelate was still there.
He stood at the courtyard's edge, robes unmarred, hands folded like a man in prayer. His eyes tracked Elias with predatory calm, every shift, every swing, every flare of light, his lips moved, words quiet but razor sharp.
Threads rippled under Elias's boots. The stones quaked, the Loom fought back.
A snare lashed up from the basin, coiling for Noll's waist, Elias didn't think. He lunged, weaving strength into his legs, his arms. His spear moved faster than muscle alone, faster than thought. The glowing head sliced across the snare midair, and it unraveled, light snapping apart like frayed wire.
Noll collapsed backward, gasping. He looked up at Elias, eyes wide with shock. "You, You cut it"
"Eyes up!" Elias snapped, dragging him to his feet with one glowing hand. "Stay in the fight!"
Another Warden charged, Elias spun, his spear leaving a comet trail of light as it struck the man square across the chest. The ward flared, and then split with a scream of threadfire, the man crumpled, ribs caved.
The Grey Hook stared for a heartbeat, frozen.
Nobody said the word. Nobody dared, but the truth was burning white in front of them, Elias wasn't fighting like a man anymore, he was fighting like something else.
Rook leapt at a wounded Warden, tiny fangs burying into the man's wrist. The cub's eyes blazed silver, matching the pale light crawling across Elias's arms and veins. For an instant, their glow pulsed in time, soldier and beast bound by the same impossible rhythm.
"Atta boy!" Elias roared, swinging his spear down to finish the man Rook had crippled, blood sprayed hot against his face, he didn't flinch.
The Prelate finally moved.
He lifted his hand, and the bells tolled without being touched, a wave of force rippled across the courtyard, invisible but heavy, dragging at Elias's legs. His light faltered, his lungs seizing as the air thickened.
"Outsider," the Prelate said softly, voice cutting across the clash like a blade "The Loom does not belong to you."
Elias snarled, dragging breath through clenched teeth, his veins glowed brighter, pushing back the weight pressing on him. "Then it shouldn't have answered when I called."
He roared and drove forward, the spear blazing white, cutting straight through the Warden still holding the chain. The weapon punched out his back, blood and light spraying in twin arcs. The man collapsed, dead before he hit the stone.
The Grey Hook broke into ragged cheers, their voices were half disbelieving, half savage, the kind of sound made when the noose snaps but the neck doesn't break.
But Elias didn't cheer, he barely heard them, every nerve was fire, every breath thunder, his muscles trembled with strength that wasn't his, His nose began to sting, a copper taste creeping into the back of his throat.
Still, he tightened his grip, Rook pressed against his heel, snarling, ready, Lysera stepped into line at his side, eyes sharp, bolt already nocked.
Together, they faced the last three Wardens, and the Prelate.
The battlefield hummed, every thread thrumming with tension, Elias stood at the center of it all, glowing faintly in the ash, spear burning like a coal pulled from the heart of the Loom.
He planted his feet "Round two," he growled.
The courtyard stank of blood and ash, four Wardens were down, their chants silenced, bodies strewn across the cracked stones, three remained, wards flaring bright in furious unison, their glaives and chains humming with sharpened threadlight. And behind them, the Prelate, calm as ever, hands folded as though this slaughter were nothing but another sermon.
Elias gripped his spear tighter, the light along its etched head pulsed, threads flickering in rhythm with his breath. His arms shook, not with weakness, but with too much power straining to be held.
"Stay close," he growled. Lysera stepped in at his flank, crossbow leveled, Rook pressed against his heel, hackles bristling, silver eyes sharp. Noll and Elvi held the right, bent sword and last arrow ready, Tamsin kept her knife in hand, face pale but set.
The Prelate's smile was thin now, fraying at the edges "do you think the Loom will carry you, outsider? Do you think it will let you keep this gift? You burn already."
Elias spat blood, nose dripping blood down his chin "then I'll burn hot enough to take you with me."
The Wardens roared and surged.
The first glaive came in high, Elias ducked, weaving strength into his legs. He felt his body answer, muscles thrumming with borrowed rhythm. He twisted up, spear flashing white, and slammed it into the man's gut, the ward cracked, threads snapping in a flare of sparks. Blood sprayed, the Warden folded with a strangled grunt.
"Six!" Elias barked, voice raw.
The next struck from his blindside, Rook darted forward, snapping at the man's ankle, the distraction opened his guard for half a second. Elias pivoted, spear trailing pale light, and drove the glowing head into his ribs, it burst through, tearing a red arc across the courtyard.
The Grey Hook shouted behind him, ragged cheers and battle cries.
Only one Warden left.
He fought like a man possessed, glaive sweeping in wide arcs, ward blazing brighter with every chant, Lysera fired, her bolt skittered off harmlessly. Elvi loosed her last arrow, it cracked the ward but didn't break it, Noll charged, bellowing, and was knocked flat by the glaive's shaft.
The man raised his weapon high, poised to finish Noll.
Elias moved.
The weave surged into his arms, his legs, his chest, pushing past the limit, his veins glowed brighter, every nerve screaming with too much light. He sprinted, spear low, the world slowing around him.
He roared and drove upward.
The spear head flared, brighter than before, and punched straight through the ward, Threads shattered, scattering like torn cloth. The weapon skewered the Warden clean through the sternum, driving him back until his body pinned against the broken arch. His glaive slipped from his hands, falling with a dull ring.
The man twitched once, blood bubbling from his lips, then went still.
Silence fell.
Elias yanked his spear free, chest heaving, every breath ragged, the courtyard reeked of iron and smoke. Eight Wardens dead, only the Prelate remained.
The priest hadn't moved, he watched Elias with eyes that burned with fascination and fury. His pleasant smile was gone, leaving only the cold, sharp hunger of a predator.
"You shouldn't exist," the Prelate said quietly. "And yet here you stand. The Weaver's hand is not yours to wield, but I see it now. You're not a mistake, you're a test."
Elias lifted his spear, its light flickering, his veins glowing faintly under skin slick with sweat and blood "come closer and find out what kind of test I am."
For a heartbeat, the Prelate almost did, his lips parted, a verse on his tongue, power coiling around his hands.
Then he stopped.
A faint shimmer tugged across the stones, not a trap this time, but a warning, reinforcements, more rebels, maybe dozens, closing in from the outer streets.
The Prelate's smile returned, faint but cruel. "Another night, outsider, The Loom burns those who dare to touch it, i'll be there when it devours you."
He turned, Threads folded around him, swallowing his figure into the stones, one blink, and he was gone.
Elias staggered, lowering his spear, his chest heaved, light flickering in and out along his veins. The hum inside him faltered, off-pitch again, slipping.
The Grey Hook stood in stunned silence, Lysera lowered her crossbow slowly, pale eyes fixed on him, Elvi's bow hung slack at her side. Noll pushed himself upright, staring like he couldn't breathe. Tamsin stood frozen.
None of them spoke, but the air between them was heavy with the impossible truth they'd just witnessed.
Elias swayed, the spear's glow guttered, his nose bled freely, crimson dripping to the ash, the strength that had carried him cracked all at once, leaving only fire and pain, his legs buckled.
Lysera darted forward, catching his arm before he hit the stones "Elias!"
"I'm fine," he rasped, but his voice was shredded, his chest rattling with every word. The spear slipped from his hands, clattering across the courtyard.
Rook pressed against his chest, whining low, Elias managed a faint smile, blood on his teeth. "Told you… not my cub."
Then the light left him. His vision tunneled, collapsing inward, Ava's laugh faint in his ears.
He hit the ground.