Chapter 9: Standing in the Hum
Dawn in the Salt Mill came as a tremor in the stone.
The world above waking with cart wheels and clanging shutters, faint voices rising with the smoke of ruined Ashvale. Down here the air was thick with salt and vinegar, sharp enough to sting the throat.
Noll waited in the narrow chamber, spear gripped too tight, jaw set like stone. He'd barely slept, eyes shadowed, but his shoulders squared with the pride of one who refused to falter.
Elias leaned on his reforged spear, every rib protesting, Rook pressed close against his leg. Pain still burned in his body, but a promise bound him tighter than stitches.
Lysera stood in the doorway. Arms crossed. Cold eyes taking measure.
"You are both fools," she said, "but the only way to know a fool's worth is to let him stand."
Noll lifted his chin. "I'm ready."
"No," Lysera said, "you are willing. That is different. We'll see which you are by the end."
She stepped into the room, her presence pulling silence after her like a veil. Threads stirred faintly in the air, her fingers brushing a pattern unseen.
"Listen," she told them.
The boy frowned, his grip tight, ears straining as though for a sound too faint. Elias closed his eyes instead, letting the hum rise in his bones. The Loom pressed against him like the low note of a drum.
"There," he said.
Lysera's gaze cut sharp. "Yes. But you hear too much. You always will. That is your curse."
Elias said nothing. He knew she was right. The resonance throbbed in him louder than it should, sharper than it ever did for the rest.
Rook growled softly, ears twitching. The cub felt it too, a kind of pulse in the stone.
"Show him," Elias said, nodding at Noll.
Lysera raised her hand. A single thread sparked to life, thin and bright, woven through her palm until it hardened like glass. She pressed her fist against the wall and left a faint imprint on the stone.
"Iron Thread," she said, "the first weave every child of the Loom learns. Simple. Dangerous. It will tear you apart if you pull too hard. But if you master it, your bones will not break so easily."
She snapped her fingers. The thread dissolved, fading back into silence.
"Your turn," she said.
Noll swallowed hard and raised his hand. His fingers twitched, his brow furrowed. Sweat broke out along his hairline. Nothing happened.
"Do not force it," Lysera said. "You are not bending the world. You are asking it to lend you strength."
Elias stepped closer, his voice steady. "Breathe. Don't strangle it. Feel the rhythm first. Threads don't answer anger. They answer presence."
The boy obeyed, chest rising slower, shoulders loosening. A faint shimmer flickered along his knuckles. Weak, but real.
Rook thumped his tail once against the floor, as if giving approval.
Noll grinned despite himself. "I did it."
"No," Lysera said sharply. "You started it. Now hold it."
The shimmer sputtered. The boy's hand shook. A spark jumped and vanished.
Noll cursed under his breath.
"Again," Lysera said.
He tried. Again, and again, until his arm trembled with effort. Elias watched, remembering his own first sparks, uncontrolled, wild, burning him from the inside. The boy's struggle was clumsy, but safer. Human.
"Not hopeless," Elias said.
Lysera's eyes flicked to him. "We'll see."
The boy set his jaw. He would not stop.
And Elias, aching and broken as he was, saw something worth teaching.
Noll lifted his hand again.
The shimmer flickered weakly, crawling over his skin like fireflies caught in a storm. His jaw clenched, breath shuddering through his teeth.
"Slow," Elias said.
"I can hold it," the boy rasped.
"Not like that," Lysera cut in, her voice cold as glass. "He pulls like a drunk tugging at a harp string. One wrong note and it snaps."
Noll ignored her, the flicker brightening for a heartbeat before sputtering out again. He cursed, slammed his fist against his thigh, then tried once more.
Rook whined low, ears flat.
Elias crouched in front of him, ribs screaming but voice steady. "Listen. It's not a brawl. You're not breaking stone with your fists. You're listening for a note and humming with it. That's all."
The boy's brow furrowed. He tried again. The shimmer returned, faint but steadier. His arm trembled with the strain.
Elias nodded. "Better. Now let it breathe. Don't choke it."
The glow lasted longer this time. Long enough for Noll's face to light with hope.
Then it sputtered. Died.
He sagged forward, sweat dripping. "Saints damn it"
Lysera's hand snapped out, catching his wrist. "Enough. You'll shred yourself before you learn a single weave."
Noll yanked his arm back, defiance burning in his eyes. "I can do it. I just need"
"What you need is discipline," she said flatly. "Not stubbornness. Discipline. Without it you're ash."
Elias rose, leaning heavier on his spear than he wanted to admit. "He's not wrong to push. Sometimes that's the only way forward."
Lysera turned on him, eyes sharp as ice. "Then show him. If you're so certain. Show him what weaving should look like, not whatever curse you drag through your veins."
Elias stilled.
Tamsin's voice floated in from the doorway, tired but edged. "She's right, soldier. If you're teaching the boy, you can't just bark words. He needs to see. So do we."
Elias swallowed hard. His scars ached. He hadn't tried the "proper" way since Lysera first dragged him into the Threadway. Every instinct told him it would feel wrong. Like forcing a left handed man to write with the right.
But Noll was watching him with wide eyes, waiting.
He set the spear aside. Raised his hand.
The chamber held its breath.
He remembered Lysera's movements, the way she had coaxed the thread across her palm like a line of silk. He mimicked it. Closed his eyes. Tried not to pull raw, but to follow the pattern.
A flicker came. Weak. Fainter than Noll's. The Loom pressed against him but resisted, as if mocking him for trying to dance to a song he'd never learned.
The thread broke with a faint spark.
Lysera's mouth curved. Not quite a smile. Not kind. "You see? He cannot. He pulls wrong. Always wrong."
Noll frowned. "But you, you fought the Choir"
"That wasn't weaving," Lysera snapped.
Elias opened his eyes, anger tightening his jaw. "Maybe not. But it worked."
The boy looked between them, confusion and awe mingling.
Rook padded closer, pressing against Elias's leg, tail twitching. The cub's silver eyes fixed on his hand, ears flicking as if urging him to try again.
Elias exhaled. Tried once more. This time he let the hum stir deeper, not the neat thread Lysera showed but the raw resonance thrumming in his bones. It came faster, harsher. A flare instead of a shimmer. His scars burned, his breath caught, but light sparked brighter across his hand.
Tamsin swore under her breath. "Saints save him."
Lysera's eyes narrowed. "That is not weaving. That is tearing."
The glow snapped away, leaving Elias's hand trembling.
He flexed his fingers, ribs aching, sweat running down his spine. "Maybe. But it's mine."
Noll's voice broke the silence, quiet but certain. "Then maybe it's what I want to learn."
Lysera's gaze cut to him like a blade. "No. You'll learn clean. Or you'll die."
Elias met her stare, fire answering frost. "Then I'll show him both. Let him choose which road to walk."
Rook thumped his tail once against the stone. The sound echoed like a drumbeat.
The boy straightened, wiping sweat from his brow. "I'll walk both if I have to."
The chamber fell silent again. The Loom's hum filled the cracks between their breaths, steady, waiting.
And Elias wondered if it was laughing.
The boy's hand trembled.
Threads shimmered across his knuckles, flickering weak and sharp, like sparks fighting to live in a storm. His jaw locked, breath shuddering through his teeth.
Elias crouched in front of him. Spear braced against his side, ribs screaming with every breath.
"Easy," he said.
"I can hold it," Noll rasped, voice raw.
"Not like that."
Lysera's voice cut through, cold as winter steel. "He thrashes like a child in a river. One wrong pull and he'll drown."
The shimmer broke. The boy cursed, slammed his fist against the stone floor, then tried again.
Rook growled low. His ears twitched, silver eyes fixed on the boy's hand. The cub felt it too, the strain in the air, the Loom pulling uneven.
Noll's face was pale now. His body shaking.
"Stop," Elias said.
"No," the boy snapped. His hand flared again, faint light running down his fingers. "I can"
"Enough."
Elias's voice cracked like a whip. Noll flinched, the thread collapsed, the light gone. His shoulders sagged.
"I failed."
Elias rose, leaning heavy on the spear. "No. You learned where the wall is. That's not failure. That's the first step to climbing."
The boy looked up, sweat dripping down his face. The fire in his eyes burned still, but his body trembled like an exhausted colt.
Lysera moved forward, cloak brushing the floor, arms crossed. "Words," she said flatly. "Not strength. If you mean to teach him, then show him. Show him how to weave clean."
Elias's jaw tightened.
Tamsin's voice drifted from the doorway. "She's right, soldier. You can't teach on smoke. Let him see it."
The weight of their eyes pressed down. Elias swallowed hard, ribs aching, but he nodded.
"Fine."
He set the spear aside. Raised his hand.
The chamber stilled.
He remembered the way Lysera had done it, threads coaxed like silk, drawn across the palm until they hardened into something real. He mimicked the shape, slow, careful, forcing himself to follow the rhythm.
A faint shimmer appeared. Weak. Trembling.
It snapped out with a hiss.
Lysera's mouth curved, not in kindness. "You see? He cannot. He pulls wrong. Always wrong."
Noll's voice broke, confusion sharp in it. "But… he fought the Choir. I saw"
"That was not weaving," Lysera cut him off.
Elias's eyes burned as he looked at her. "Maybe not. But it worked."
The boy turned to him, desperate. "Then show me that."
Silence pressed in. Rook whined, shifting closer to Elias's leg.
Elias breathed deep. Closed his eyes. And let the resonance surge the way it wanted.
Light flared across his hand, sharper than Lysera's threads, jagged as broken glass. The Loom thrummed like a bell, the hum vibrating through his bones. His scars burned, blood roared in his ears.
Lysera's breath caught. Tamsin swore.
The glow sharpened, brighter, hotter, until it hurt to look at. The pitch screamed, a sound without sound, threatening to split him apart.
And then Elias let it go.
The light snapped out. The chamber exhaled, silence crashing down.
Elias staggered, bracing on the wall, sweat dripping from his jaw.
Noll whispered, "Saints…"
Lysera's face was pale with fury. "That is not weaving. That is tearing. You don't braid Threads, you cut them and force them to sing. It will kill you."
Elias straightened, eyes bloodshot. "Maybe. But it kept us alive."
The boy swallowed hard. "Can I learn it?"
"No," Lysera hissed. Her gaze like a blade. "No one can. No one should."
Elias put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "You'll learn clean. The right way. But you'll see mine too. So you know the difference. So you know what it costs."
Noll's jaw set. He nodded once.
Tamsin shook her head, muttering under her breath, "Saints help us all."
Boots scuffed above them.
Elias's head snapped up, Resonance Sense flaring. A vibration in the stone, faint but sharp, like claws scratching at the edge of a drum.
Rook growled, fur bristling, ears flat.
Lysera's eyes narrowed. "Wardens."
Hale appeared in the doorway, sword drawn. His face grim. "Patrol sweeping Low Foundry. They're close. Too close."
Elvi slid in behind him, bow already strung. "Five, maybe six. Moving like they smell something."
Elias grabbed his spear. Pain lanced his ribs but he forced himself upright. "Then we move first."
Lysera hissed. "You can barely stand."
"Still breathing," Elias said. His grip tightened. "That's enough."
The rebels slipped into the narrow alleys of Low Foundry. Smoke hung thick, chimneys groaning overhead, broken glass crunching underfoot.
The Wardens moved like wolves, armor etched with Loom sigil, eyes sharp, steps in rhythm. One at the front hummed low, weaving as he walked, threads trailing like faint smoke.
Elias froze, his Resonance Sense screamed, The air ahead twisted, sharp notes spiking, threads bending into a ward.
"Trap," he muttered. "Left side."
Hale didn't question. He signaled, the squad slipping through a collapsed wall into shadow. The Wardens passed, their weaving dragging like nets across the street.
Then Rook snarled.
The lead Warden turned, threads sparking in his hands. "There," he barked.
The alley exploded into chaos.
Elvi's arrow flew, striking a shoulder plate. Hale charged, blade flashing. Lysera raised a veil, threads bending light into shadow.
Elias moved, ribs screaming, spear thrumming with resonance.
The Warden's weave hit first. A wall of force slammed down the alley, threads buzzing sharp as hornets. Elias felt it coming before it landed.
He shifted, half a step, instinct sharp, Resonance Sense guiding him through the fault line. His spear thrust, cutting the air where the threads were weakest.
The weave shattered.
Light burst, snapping threads into sparks. The Warden staggered, eyes wide.
Elias's chest burned. Blood dripped from his nose. His body shook with the backlash. But the threads were gone. Severed.
Lysera stared, horror etched across her face.
"Elvi, down!" Hale shouted. The archer dropped as another weave screamed across the alley. Rook leapt, teeth flashing, dragging a Warden to the ground.
Noll stood frozen. His spear trembling in his hands.
"Stand!" Elias roared.
The boy jerked, thrust clumsily, catching a Warden in the thigh. Not a kill, but enough. Hale finished the strike.
The last Warden broke, blood streaking his armor, and fled into the smoke. The alley fell silent, filled only with the drip of blood and the hiss of fading threads.
Elias leaned on his spear, chest heaving, vision swimming, his scars burned like fire.
Lysera's eyes locked on him. "What you did… that was severing, you unmade his weave mid cast."
Elias wiped the blood from his nose, voice rough. "Better him than us."
Tamsin knelt beside the wounded. Her hands already busy. "You'll bleed yourself dry if you keep pulling like that. Your body isn't made for it."
Elias looked down at Noll. The boy's face pale, hands shaking, but still gripping his spear. Still standing.
"You see?" Elias said hoarsely "that's the difference, you learn clean, you live longer."
Noll nodded, though his eyes still burned with awe.
Lysera turned away, cloak whipping, but her voice carried. "The Church will not forgive this. It will hunt you harder now."
Elias leaned against the wall, ribs screaming, Rook pressed close at his side.
He whispered under his breath, voice for no one but himself.
"Let it hunt."
The squad limped back into the safehouse. The brazier's glow felt faint after the fight, the air heavy with the weight of what had been seen.
Hale set his sword aside, face grim "word will spread, they'll say an Outsider cut a Warden's weave in half. Whether it's true or not won't matter, The Church will hear."
Tamsin swore softly "Saints blind us."
Elvi's eyes flicked to Elias, wary, measuring.
Lysera stood apart, arms folded, gaze sharp as a blade.
"You are no Weaver," she said coldly. "You are something else. Something worse."
Elias said nothing. His hand tightened on his spear.
Noll sat in the corner, silent, still gripping his own weapon, eyes fixed on Elias.
And in that silence, Elias felt the Loom itself. Threads humming faint and sharp. Waiting.
Like it knew what he was becoming.