The world went silent.
Kain's body was weightless, suspended in a void where there was no ground beneath him, no air to breathe, no sense of time. It was as though he had been torn from the physical world, thrown into something deeper—into the very fabric of reality itself. His senses screamed at him, trying to process the impossibility of it all, but there was no escape. He was no longer in the temple, no longer on the mountain. He was in the Weave, the heart of fate itself.
At first, it was nothing but a blur of light and shadow—shifting patterns that stretched out before him, threads of gold and silver and darkness intertwining in ways that defied logic. The threads moved like living things, twisting and turning with impossible speed, and Kain felt the urge to follow them, to reach out and touch them, to understand them. They pulsed with energy, each one representing a life, a choice, a moment in time.
And yet, as he reached toward them, a sharp, almost physical sensation tugged at his chest. The Luck of Gods. It surged through him like a flood of fire and ice, making his limbs feel heavy, his heart pound in his chest. He knew the power was inside him, wrapped around him, ready to be unleashed, but he also knew that it was dangerous. The Luck could swallow him whole, consume his very being. He had to tread carefully.
"Focus," a voice broke through the silence, and Kain's eyes snapped to attention. Orin's figure appeared before him, though it wasn't solid—more like a silhouette made of shifting light and shadow. "This is the Weave, Kain. The threads that bind everything together. You need to find the thread that's yours, the one that connects you to this place. It's the only way to change your fate."
Kain's breath hitched. "How do I find it? How do I know which one is mine?"
Orin's figure didn't move, but his voice resonated with a quiet intensity. "You will feel it. The threads that tie you to this world are different. They will pulse, calling to you. But you must resist the temptation to follow them blindly. The Weave is full of false threads, ones that will lead you astray, ones that are already twisted by the Weaver's influence. You must be strong."
Kain swallowed hard, his mind racing. The Weave seemed infinite, an endless sea of interwoven fates, and he was just a single thread in a tapestry far too vast to comprehend. But if he was to change his destiny, if he was to undo the curse that the Luck of Gods had placed upon him, he had no choice but to try.
With a deep breath, he took a step forward, his senses straining to identify the threads that called to him. He reached out with his mind, his focus narrowing to the overwhelming patterns in front of him. Each thread was unique, vibrating with its own frequency, and some of them shone brighter than others—threads of power, of importance. But none of them felt right. They felt foreign, dangerous, false.
And then he felt it.
A pull. A tug in his chest, faint but undeniable. It wasn't like the others. It was subtle, quiet—like a whisper in the depths of the sea. Kain's hand instinctively reached out, and the moment his fingers brushed the thread, he felt a surge of energy course through him, overwhelming in its intensity. The Luck flared to life inside him, responding to the thread, pulling him deeper into the Weave. But this wasn't the Luck of Gods that he was used to. This was different—raw, unrefined, and uncontrollable.
"Don't lose yourself!" Orin's voice rang out, sharp and commanding. "You must hold onto yourself, Kain. Don't let the Luck take you!"
Kain clenched his fists, gritting his teeth against the flood of power that threatened to drown him. The thread before him pulsed with an energy he could not describe, but it was undeniable—it was his. It was the thread of his fate, the one that connected him to this place, to the power that had chosen him. He could feel the weight of his decisions, the choices that had led him here. The Luck had changed him, twisted him into something more, but it had also given him the ability to reshape his future.
His grip tightened around the thread, and for a moment, everything went still.
The darkness around him faded, replaced by a vision—a swirling image of his past. He saw flashes of moments he had forgotten, moments that had shaped him. He saw the first time he had drawn the sword, the moment he had tasted the Luck of Gods, and the faces of the people he had lost. He saw the moments of choice, the paths he had taken, and the consequences of those decisions.
And then, in the center of it all, he saw her.
The Weaver.
Her face was hidden, cloaked in shadows, but Kain could feel her presence, like a storm on the horizon. She was watching him, waiting for him to make his move. She was the one who controlled the threads, who wove the fate of every living thing. And Kain realized, with a sinking feeling, that he wasn't just here to change his own fate. He was here to challenge hers.
The vision shifted again, and Kain saw the temple—the place he had just left. But now it was different. It was not just a building; it was the center of the Weave, the heart of fate itself. The threads stretched out from it, radiating outward in every direction, connecting every life, every moment. The Weaver's influence was everywhere, and Kain knew that if he did not act, if he did not find a way to sever his connection to the Weave, the Luck would consume him. He would become just another thread in her tapestry, lost to the ages.
The vision flickered, and Kain felt his grip on the thread weakening. The Luck of Gods surged within him, the raw power threatening to swallow him whole. But he knew what he had to do.
He pulled the thread, harder this time, willing himself to remain in control. The Weave resisted, the threads pulling against him, but Kain held firm. He could feel the Weaver's presence, like a great weight bearing down on him, but he refused to let go. This was his fate, his choice. He was not just a pawn in the game of gods. He was more than that.
With a final, desperate effort, Kain twisted the thread, severing it from the Weave.
For a moment, everything went silent.
And then, the world around him shattered.
---
End of Chapter Ten.