---
The firelight flickered across the walls of the hut, its glow dancing in uneven patterns. To the ordinary eye, it was just light bending against rough wood. But to Matthew, there was something more.
Threads.
They shimmered faintly at the edges of the flames, curling and unwinding in spirals only he could see. Not illusions. Not equations on a board. Real. Tangible. Alive.
He lay swaddled in cloth, still trapped in the fragile body of a newborn, but his mind—his cursed, blessed mind—was sharper than ever. His vision followed the threads, tracing the way the firelight wove itself with the smoke, how it tangled with the warmth that brushed against the woman holding him.
Awe washed through him. For the first time, he didn't have to convince anyone. He wasn't hallucinating. He wasn't unraveling himself. The world was truly woven.
The System stirred within him.
[Thread Perception: Active.]
[Detected: Minor Fire Thread.]
Matthew's breath caught—or it would have, if newborn lungs could do more than hiccup.
A Fire Thread. He could see it, a glowing ember of energy dancing just out of reach. The System had named it, confirmed it.
He whispered in his mind: Collect.
Light shivered. The ember tugged against reality, then slid into him, embedding itself deep in his soul like a warm spark.
[Thread Collection successful.]
[Collected: Minor Fire Thread.]
The notification pulsed through him like a heartbeat. His lips twitched, forming the ghost of a smile, though all the outside world saw was a baby wriggling.
It worked. It really worked.
For years on Earth, he had been mocked, dismissed, ignored. He had chased phantoms that no one else could see. And yet here—here, he was vindicated. The tapestry was real.
He wasn't unraveling. He was weaving.
---
The next step was instinctive. He wanted to test it further. The System pulsed again, as though responding to his eagerness.
[Thread Fusion available. Attempt Fusion?]
Matthew hesitated. Fusion already? He had just collected his first thread. Should he risk it? But the hunger to know—to prove—was stronger than caution.
"Yes," he whispered in his mind.
The spark of fire inside him shivered. The System guided him, wrapping it in strands of willpower, trying to merge it with something else. For a moment, Matthew felt as if he were back in his lab, equations unfurling, pieces of the puzzle slotting together—except now the puzzle wasn't abstract. It was alive.
The Fire Thread began to stretch, split, twist—
—and then it snarled.
The thread flared out of control, bursting against the fragile weave of his newborn vessel. Matthew's body spasmed, his tiny arms jerking. Firelight in the hut guttered, shadows leaping unnaturally high across the walls. The air itself seemed to ripple.
[Warning: Incompatible fusion.]
[Stability compromised. Soul strain detected.]
Agony ripped through him, though his infant body couldn't scream properly. It came out as a broken, pitiful cry. His mind, however, burned with white-hot terror. The thread wasn't fusing—it was unraveling him.
For one terrible instant, he felt himself splitting apart, his awareness fraying into raw filaments. He had chased the truth of threads all his life, but now he was becoming one—loose, broken, ready to scatter into nothing.
"No—!" His will clawed against the void. "Not yet!"
The System roared back.
[Emergency Stabilization invoked.]
[Thread sealed.]
The wild spark collapsed, folding back into his soul with a soundless snap. Reality steadied. The firelight calmed. The shadows stilled.
Matthew gasped inwardly, his soul trembling. His newborn body wept weakly, but inside, he was shaking with something far more than infant fear.
[Warning: Forceful weaving without comprehension is dangerous.]
[You stand at the beginning of the Loom. Tread carefully.]
---
Minutes passed. His breathing steadied. His infant body calmed under the gentle rocking of the woman who thought his cries were nothing more than a newborn's fussing.
But Matthew knew better. He had brushed against death again.
It wasn't like the explosion on Earth. That had been sudden, final. This had been worse—a slow unraveling, the feeling of his very self stretching into threads, losing cohesion. If not for the System, he would already be gone.
He lay still, silent, staring up at the flickering ceiling. His mind churned.
So this was weaving. This was the truth of power. Not a gift, not a crutch, but a razor's edge.
Excitement still burned in his chest. He had collected his first thread. That alone proved everything. But now, alongside the thrill, a cold understanding settled in.
Every weave would be a gamble.
Every step forward would test his comprehension.
And if he tried to weave blindly… he'd be torn apart.
Matthew clenched his tiny fists. For now, he had to be patient. He had a second chance at life, a new beginning in this strange frontier world. Recklessness had nearly killed him once. He wouldn't repeat that mistake.
He would study. He would learn. He would grow.
And when the time came, he would weave something worthy of all the years of ridicule and regret.
---
Far beyond the hut, beyond the drifting realm itself, a presence watched.
Kai sat within the throne hall of the Origin Realm, rivers of starlight and void flowing endlessly around him. His gaze pierced across layers of creation, settling upon the newborn child in the humble hut.
Matthew Weaver.
Kai had felt the tremor when the boy tried his first weave. The ripple had brushed even the edges of the Origin Realm, faint but undeniable.
"Already impatient," Kai murmured, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Even as a newborn, he reaches for the loom."
Ema's voice chimed softly beside him.
[It was reckless. He nearly unraveled.]
Kai leaned back, golden eyes glinting with quiet amusement. "Reckless, yes. But also promising. He touched the thread on his first month. That's more than most ever achieve in their lifetimes."
He raised a hand, weaving a faint pattern of light and void in the air, mirroring what Matthew had attempted. The lines shimmered, fragile but beautiful.
"A Weaver cannot walk a safe path," Kai said softly. "Every thread must cut as much as it binds."
Ema was silent, but Kai could sense her quiet disapproval.
He chuckled, the sound echoing through the vast hall. "Don't worry. I will not let him unravel completely. He is the first of the Loom. His failure would be my own."
Kai's gaze softened as he looked once more at the sleeping infant, a tiny spark in a vast and merciless world.
"Grow well, Matthew. Weave carefully. One day, your tapestry will shake even the heavens."
And with that, the starlight around Kai dimmed, returning to its endless, patient flow.
The first weave had been made. The first risk taken. The first step on the Weaver's path begun.