[Opening – Loomspace, The Heart of the Threads]
Kael's presence burned brighter, a singular point of radiance cutting through the infinite web of past, present, and future. Around him, the very fabric of the Loom trembled, pulled by the gravitational force of his choice. Each thread—a soul, a decision, a life—vibrated with a strange, almost terrifying harmony.
Vaelithar, once the weaver of fates, now found herself locked in a battle not with Kael's power, but with his free will. The Loom itself was not hers to command anymore. Kael had already altered the pattern of his destiny, leaving Vaelithar no place to stand.
And still, she didn't move.
Her hands hovered above the fractured threads, trembling only for a moment before solidifying into a confident gesture, as if the very space around her warped in resistance to her presence.
Vaelithar's voice rippled across the space, a calm whisper amidst chaos.
"You think you've defied fate. But you have yet to meet the scissors of the infinite veil."
She spoke as if the Loom were a battlefield, as if she could simply slice through the moments, the lives, the essence of beings with the sharpest cut.
[Scene – The Citadel, Outside Noctheron's Reach]
Zera stood before the colossal gates that led deeper into Noctheron's core. Drayke Norr was not far behind, though his presence was an ever-persistent tension of energy, ready to unleash at any moment. The ground beneath their feet trembled, but Zera did not waver.
"We're close." Zera's voice was detached, almost as if she were speaking to herself.
Drayke, still visibly irritated, cracked his neck.
"Good. I'm not one for waiting. So... do we just break the door down?"
"No," Zera replied, her voice low. "We wait for the cracks to spread. We don't just destroy it, we'll fracture it from within."
Her gaze lingered at the horizon, at the looming tension between past and present. The Loom's threads were pulling on the world as much as they were holding it together.
They had all been altered by Kael.
And soon, they would all pay the price.
[Back to Kael and Lyra – Inside the Loom]
Kael stood tall, his Ashenflame humming with intensity, but there was no heat. No fire.
His aura, now more than ever, seemed to blur the boundaries between reality and dream. It was less a physical manifestation and more a force of sheer existence—something that bent the laws of nature.
Kael's eyes burned like twin black suns—voids that consumed any trace of light that dared approach. He knew he wasn't just fighting Vaelithar. He wasn't just fighting the Loom.
He was battling an idea.
The idea that his fate had already been written.
"No," he muttered under his breath, as if his own words were a promise, not to her, but to himself. "I am not a thread, Vaelithar. I am the loom."
And the moment the words left his lips, the Loom seemed to recoil. The cracks deepened, and the threads themselves swayed as if recoiling from the growing void in his chest. His aura bled into the surrounding space, weaving through the fractured threads, linking them not with fate but with choice.
In an instant, Kael surged forward, his feet leaving the ground. The Ashenflame cleaved through the space between him and Vaelithar, her form flickering in and out of the threads, almost imperceptible, like a shadow in the depths of the infinite.
Vaelithar's hands moved, faster than thought.
Her fingers formed into scissors—sharp, crystalline, and glimmering with an unnatural light, far beyond anything a mortal could fathom. With a single motion, she brought them down, but Kael was already upon her.
[Action Scene – The Loom Fragmentation]
Kael's Ashenflame cleaved through the Loom's threads. Each slash reverberated with the sound of the universe tearing—each flicker of flame another life severed, another thread undone. Yet, Vaelithar moved with grace, spinning on her heel, her scissors cutting through Kael's assault like they were mere strands of thread.
The fight was not one of physical violence, but of pure will.
Vaelithar's scissors moved with the precision of the Loom itself, severing the lines between past, present, and future. Each cut made the world shudder, realities spinning out of sync. Her form flickered in and out of the Loom like an apparition, impossible to pin down, impossible to destroy.
"You are nothing but a reflection of the future I wove!" Vaelithar's voice rang out.
Kael responded in silence, his gaze unwavering, as he swung Ashenflame down in a perfect arc—an echo of the fate she had tried to rewrite. He could feel the weight of all those who had fallen under her influence, their lives twisted by her hands.
"No more strings to pull, Vaelithar." He spoke, his voice rising, booming through the shifting world. "You can cut, but you cannot unravel."
[Final Scene – Loom's Heart, Kael's Will]
The Loom trembled once again, but not from Vaelithar's scissors.
It trembled from Kael's will.
His form expanded, pushing through the endless web of threads, until he became more than a single point. He became a presence that stretched across time and space. Every slash of his blade—Ashenflame—rewrote the fates of the souls she had bound. Every flicker of his aura bent reality itself.
And then, as Kael's sword touched Vaelithar's scissors, a sudden silence fell.
Kael's will—his choice—had broken the Loom.
"Fate… does not control me."
[Opening – Aftermath of the Loom's Fracture]
Silence reigned.
Not the peaceful kind, but the dreadful silence that followed the end of something absolute. In the void where the Loom once stood—an eternal construct believed untouchable—only fragments remained. Shattered threads drifted like broken constellations, scattering across the skies of Aurenya.
Kael floated above it all.
His Ashenflame was lowered, the blade still pulsing dimly. The echo of Vaelithar's presence had vanished, unraveled by his final strike. She had not screamed. She had not begged. She had simply… ceased.
And yet, something else lingered. A residue in the void. A presence deeper than fate. Older than the Loom.
Kael narrowed his eyes. His form flickered between ash and solid—unstable, not from weakness, but from overwhelming choice. He hadn't just defeated an Eternal. He had severed a truth that shaped the world.
> "I changed it," he whispered. "The thread that was supposed to be mine… it's gone."
For the first time, he stood outside the pattern. Outside destiny.
And something had noticed.
[Scene Shift – Solmaris Capital, Edenspire Citadel]
Lyra Solvine collapsed to her knees as a pulse of golden static rippled across the skies.
All across Aurenya, seers screamed. Prophets went blind. The stars themselves trembled. The Loom's collapse echoed into every realm, every consciousness. Time warped. A child born that second would remember Kael's name without ever hearing it.
Zera stood atop a high balcony, her cloak fluttering unnaturally. Her Wraith Bell was ringing on its own—no wind, no touch.
"So… he did it," she muttered. "He broke fate."
Beside her, Drayke Norr cracked his knuckles, a grin forming.
"He really doesn't know how to not break things, huh?"
But Zera's grin was gone.
"You don't understand, Drayke. The Loom wasn't just fate. It was containment. Now it's undone…"
She turned her gaze west—toward the horizon where shadows rose.
"...They'll wake up. All of them."
[Scene – The Black Horizon: Rise of the Forbidden Ones]
In the deepest cracks of the world—where even the Eternals feared to tread—something shifted.
Not a beast. Not a being.
A presence.
One… then two… then seven.
Sealed since the Origin Cataclysm, the Forbidden Eternals began to stir.
They were not bound to the Loom. They were the parts cast out—possibilities too dangerous to be woven into fate. Entities known only in fractured prophecy.
One such figure stepped forward—barefoot upon glass-like obsidian, surrounded by black moons.
Name: Nethraxis, the Pale Dawn
Title: The Rebirth That Never Was
Form: A mirrored being made of inverted light—eyes that reflected your truest fears, limbs that bent time like thread.
Aura Type: Fracturelight (Unstable Radiance + Time Reversal)
Relic: Eidolon Veil – a shroud that makes you forget you ever existed
1"Who dares unravel what was cast out?" Nethraxis whispered, her voice layered with millions of unspoken regrets. "Who called us back?"
Another voice replied—a gurgle, a broken laugh.
"Kael Arclight," said Thyrm the Echo Maw, a serpent-formed Eternal with a mouth full of dying languages. "He dared…"
[Scene – Kael's Inner World, A Crack in the Core]
Kael stood alone.
Not in the Loom. Not in reality. Somewhere… else. A mirror-dimension within himself.
From the sky, shards of broken threads fell like frozen rain. Each one held a different version of him—Kael the villain, Kael the forgotten, Kael the god who failed.
Then, a voice from within:
"You think the world ends where fate dies?" It was deep. Too deep.
Kael turned.
A reflection stood across from him. Same face. Same voice. But eyes hollow, body cracked, flickering with red ash.
"I'm the version that should've been erased. I'm the Kael who lost."
Kael gripped Ashenflame.
"Then why are you still here?"
"Because you broke the Loom," said the reflection, stepping forward. "And now all the Kaels that never were… want their turn."
[Final Panels – Foreshadowing]
Lyra glancing at a prophecy burning itself off her skin.
Drayke watching his own aura fluctuate violently—his Beast Flame rebelling.
Zera in a secret chamber, speaking to an unseen figure with a distorted voice:
"He'll need allies. But first… he must survive himself."
Nethraxis stepping through a crack in the sky, whispering:
"The Pale Dawn… rises."
"Haaah… what a strong aura." – Kael, smirking, as his reflection lunges.