*Chapter 38: The Final Thread*
Theo and Nyra left the Valley of Whispers changed. Not weaker — but stripped of the weight they no longer needed to carry. The Compass, once chaotic and uncertain, now pulsed with calm precision.
"The path is straight," Theo said, watching the needle point north, beyond the Silver Peaks. "No more distractions."
Nyra nodded. "Only the end."
Their journey led them through frost-covered ridges, forgotten ruins, and long-dead battlefields. The world they passed bore scars — not just of war, but of time itself pulling against its seams. And now, they understood why.
The *Final Thread* was fraying.
At the summit of the last peak stood an ancient loom — older than the Vault, older than the Compass. Strings of light and shadow wove endlessly through it, tangled and stretched.
A voice echoed as they approached — neither man nor woman, neither young nor old. "You carry the Compass. You've survived the Veil. Do you accept the final choice?"
Theo stepped forward. "What choice?"
"To cut the Final Thread… or to tie it."
Silence.
"If we cut it," Nyra whispered, "everything resets."
"If we tie it," Theo said, "we accept everything — past, pain, loss — and move forward."
He looked at her. "Together?"
She nodded. "Always."
They reached for the thread.