The void twisted around Arin, Kaelen, and Seraph. Time itself seemed to stretch and bend as if the very fabric of reality was coming apart at the seams. They had barely caught their breath from the battle with the Loom's Keeper when the air thickened with an eerie pressure. Arin, his eyes wide with instinctive recognition, reached toward the loom at his side. It pulsed with an unnatural energy, chaotic and unstable.
Before he could react, the ground beneath their feet fractured like glass. The rift opened, pulling him in, and his companions could only watch helplessly as he vanished into the tearing darkness.
---
The world Arin found himself in was unlike any he had encountered. The air was thick with a strange, untamed magic, and the land around him was littered with the ruins of civilizations. Towering trees with gnarled, thread-like branches twisted above, their roots digging deep into the earth as if they were part of the very world's foundation. He could feel the loom, its pulse near him, but it was different here—ancient, unstable. The ground vibrated with its hum, and it seemed to call to him.
Arin didn't have time to marvel at the world around him before the echoes of footsteps reached his ears. A group of ancient beings, with eyes like burning coals, appeared from the shadows of the ruins. Their gaze was filled with a mixture of awe and fear.
"You've come," one of them said, its voice low and heavy, like the grinding of stone. "You are the one who defies the loom. You are foolish."
Arin stood tall despite the overwhelming presence of these beings. "I will not let the loom destroy everything. I need to learn how to control it, no matter the cost."
Their eyes darkened, and the silence that followed was heavy with unspoken words. The being who had spoken before raised a hand, signaling the others to stay back. "You do not understand the loom. It is not just a force to control—it is the core of everything. We... we are its keepers. And you are not ready."
Arin met their gaze without hesitation. "Then I will become ready."
---
Before another word could be spoken, the ground trembled violently, and an unnatural presence filled the air. A shadow descended, its form both monstrous and celestial, a twisted creature of light and darkness woven together in a single, horrifying being. The keeper had warned him, but Arin hadn't been prepared for this—the loom's destructive power was not only a force of creation but of pure devastation.
The creature lunged, and Arin raised his hand, trying to call upon the loom's power, but it felt wrong—chaotic. The threads of time wavered, fluctuating between light and dark, creating rifts in reality itself. The creature laughed, its voice a cacophony of a thousand suffering souls.
"You think you can control this? You are nothing compared to what lies ahead."
---
Arin's heart raced. The loom's threads were coming alive within him, but their control was slipping. His hands began to glow brighter, drawing more of the loom's raw, untamed power. The creature attacked again, its claw-like fingers reaching for Arin, but this time, he was ready.
He threw himself forward, channeling the unstable magic through his body. The world around him shifted in a violent storm of color and sound. Time itself seemed to bend, and Arin found himself in a brief moment of clarity—just long enough to understand the true cost of controlling the loom. It was not something to be wielded without sacrifice, and he would have to pay the price, but he didn't know what it would be.
---
As the creature's form shattered into a thousand pieces of darkness, Arin felt a presence beside him. An older version of himself—scarred, battle-worn, and powerful—extended a hand, as though waiting for him to make a choice.
"Arin," the figure said in a voice tinged with regret, "you've always had the choice. But to control the loom... you must understand what you're willing to lose."
---
The final surge of power from the loom tore through the air, and everything went still. Arin's hand hovered in the space between him and the older version of himself. The world around him continued to collapse, and he was faced with the most crucial decision of his life: embrace the loom's power and lose himself to it, or step away from it and risk everything he had fought for.
As the darkness swallowed him, the last thing he saw was the figure's outstretched hand—reaching toward him, but also holding him back from the chaos that threatened to consume him entirely.
---
And with that, the void swallowed him whole.