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Entangled Fates: Woven In Stardust

Manachiichan
14
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 14 chs / week.
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Synopsis
In the shadowed realms where mortal breaths intertwine with the whispers of fate, life unfolds as a merciless scribe, etching its decrees in ink spun from sorrow. From the first gasp of a newborn soul, the threads of their destiny are bound by the rotted parchment of others' judgments. A prison woven not by iron, but by the venomous counsel of those who claim dominion over truth. No deed of valor, no moonlit vigil of toil, nor blood spilled in pursuit of one's creed can unravel the skein of condemnation. For the celestial loom spins eternally, its gears forged by the hands of scorn, weaving all hope into an endless tapestry of anguish. A cycle, cruel and unbroken, as silver needles of judgment pierce the tattered fabric of will, each stitch a dirge, each thread a serpent coiling tighter. Perfection, they croon, is the sigil of the righteous, a gilded lie sold by shadowed councils in their marble halls. Yet what is this perfection? But a hollowed relic, a marionette's dance to the tune of hollowed minds? To walk the path others deem "flawless" is to wander a labyrinth with no sky, no stars, no breath of wind to stir the soul's embers. Even time, that fickle mender, cannot fully seal the cracks wrought by sorrow's blade. Wounds may close, scars fading like ink drowned in rain, but their echoes linger, phantom storms in the marrow of one's spirit. Or do they? For in this realm of ash and twilight, where even the gods avert their gaze... can a soul truly outrun the venom of its chains?
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Chapter 1 - Prologue

"My efforts...All lies in ashes..." 

Footfalls reverberated through the ash remains of a crumbling edifice, a once-proud bastion now reduced to charcoal and fractured stone. A cloaked figure drifted through the ruins of a building, An Establishment that was once brimming with life now nothing but a void of endless sorrow.

"Why...does time coil back upon its tail...?" His voice, covered by epochs of anguish, hung in the air like funeral smoke. "Again...and again…"

A scrap of crimson fabric fluttered against his boot. A knitted scarf, the threads frayed but still blazing with the stubborn hue of memory. He knelt, gloved fingers brushing the wool. Her scarf. It never once left her neck, worn like armor through all the hardship she had faced.

"When...does the wheel of Eternity cease turning?..."

The words carved through him. He was a relic of eras, no chronicle recorded, a wanderer bound to a path slick with the blood of repetitions.

'My time dwindle...'

He rose, cloak rippling as he extended a gauntlet hand. The ruins shuddered. Stones wept dust. A keening wind awoke, not of nature, but of his making. A dirge only he could conduct. 

"Fate's ledger is written in lies..." 

Above his palm, reality fissured. A vortex of devouring darkness yawned open a cosmic maw that drank light, sound, hope. The remnants of walls, of splintered furniture, of a child's rusted music box, all spiraled into oblivion. 

"Cruelty...is not decree."

His lips twisted a smile sharp enough to flay stars. Without hesitation, he stepped into the abyss. The black hole collapsed behind him in a silent detonation, leaving only a scar in the air a wound that pulsed once before dissolving. 

"The curse dies with me." 

Somewhere, in the marrow of infinity, his resolve crystallized. 

"Soon."