Emberwood was a village unlike anything Shion had ever seen. Its wooden houses stood haphazardly along a dirt path, each structure looking weathered yet sturdy, as if they had withstood countless storms. Smoky wisps from chimneys blended with the golden twilight, casting the scene in a rustic charm. Yet despite the serene setting, an oppressive tension clung to the air, like a storm waiting to break.
"Stick close," Lyria said, her tone more clipped than before. She walked briskly ahead, her silver braid swaying with every step. Villagers—men, women, and even children—paused their tasks to stare. Their eyes carried suspicion, their whispers filled the air like leaves caught in a breeze.
"Another outsider?" a man muttered.
"It's been years since the last one," said an older woman. "And he brought nothing but ruin."
Shion shifted uncomfortably. He could feel their gazes, heavy with judgment and fear, though he had done nothing to earn it. "Do they always act like this?" he whispered to Lyria.
"They're scared," she replied without turning around. "The Abyss has taken everything from them—their crops, their homes, their people. When they see someone new, they assume more trouble is coming."
Shion glanced around at the villagers, taking in their wary expressions and hollowed eyes. They were gaunt, their clothes patched and frayed. Some carried weapons—crude spears and knives—while others clutched talismans made of twisted vines and polished stones. It was clear this village was surviving, but only barely.
Lyria stopped in front of a small hut at the village's center. Its roof sagged slightly, and the wooden door creaked as she pushed it open. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of herbs and smoke. An elderly woman sat in a chair near the hearth, her hair as white as snow and her milky eyes staring blankly into the distance. Despite her apparent blindness, she radiated an aura of quiet authority.
"Elder Mirelle," Lyria said, bowing her head slightly. "I've brought someone who needs your guidance."
The old woman's head tilted slightly, her sightless eyes seeming to focus on Shion. "So, the threads have brought another into our fold," she said, her voice soft yet resonant. "Come closer, boy. Let me see you."
Shion hesitated, glancing at Lyria. She nodded encouragingly, so he stepped forward, stopping a few feet from the elder. Mirelle raised a gnarled hand, beckoning him closer. When he was within reach, she grasped his wrist with surprising strength.
"Tell me," Mirelle said, her grip firm but not painful. "What do you see when you close your eyes?"
Shion blinked. "What do I see?"
"Close them," Mirelle instructed. "And tell me."
Unsure of what else to do, Shion obeyed. He shut his eyes, and for a moment, there was only darkness. Then, faintly, the threads appeared. They glowed softly, crisscrossing in intricate patterns, connecting everything around him. Some threads pulsed with vibrant energy, while others were dim and frayed.
"I see… threads," Shion said, his voice barely above a whisper. "They're everywhere, connecting everything."
Mirelle released his wrist and leaned back in her chair. "A Fateweaver," she murmured, almost to herself. "It has been generations since one walked among us."
"What does that mean?" Shion asked, opening his eyes. "Lyria said the same thing, but I don't understand."
Mirelle's expression grew somber. "The threads you see are the threads of fate, the unseen forces that bind all things. To touch them is to change destiny itself. A Fateweaver can manipulate these threads, but such power comes at a great cost."
Shion's stomach tightened. "What kind of cost?"
Before Mirelle could answer, a loud scream pierced the air, cutting through the quiet village like a blade. Lyria was on her feet in an instant, her hand on her sword. "Abyss Hunters," she said grimly. "Stay here."
She bolted out the door, leaving Shion and Mirelle behind. Shion's heart raced as he heard the sounds of chaos outside—screams, the clash of metal, and the unholy screeches of the Hunters. He turned to Mirelle, who remained calm despite the commotion.
"Go," she said, surprising him. "Your fate is tied to theirs. But remember, every thread you pull carries consequences."
Shion nodded, though he didn't fully understand her warning. He rushed out of the hut, his legs trembling but his resolve firm.
The village was in chaos. Abyss Hunters swarmed the streets, their shadowy forms darting between houses and tearing through anything in their path. Villagers fought back with whatever weapons they had, but it was clear they were outmatched. The creatures moved too quickly, regenerating almost as fast as they were struck down.
Shion spotted Lyria in the center of the fray, her sword a blur of silver as she cut through the Hunters. Despite her skill, she was struggling. For every creature she defeated, two more seemed to take its place.
"Shion!" she shouted when she saw him. "What are you doing out here? I told you to stay with Mirelle!"
"I couldn't just sit there!" he yelled back. "What can I do to help?"
"Stay out of my way!" she snapped, parrying a tendril that lashed toward her. "This isn't your fight!"
But Shion couldn't just stand by and watch. He closed his eyes, searching for the threads. They appeared instantly, glowing and pulsing with energy. He focused on the ones connected to the Hunters, their dark threads standing out starkly against the others. Taking a deep breath, he reached out and grabbed one.
The moment he pulled, a wave of energy rippled through him. The Hunter nearest to him let out a deafening screech, its form unraveling into black smoke. Encouraged, Shion grabbed another thread and pulled. Another Hunter dissolved, and then another.
The villagers stared in awe as the Hunters began to fall, their numbers dwindling rapidly. Lyria fought her way to Shion, her expression a mix of shock and frustration.
"What are you doing?" she demanded, grabbing his arm. "You're going to burn yourself out!"
"I can do this," Shion said, his voice trembling but resolute. "I have to do this."
Lyria hesitated, then nodded. "Just be careful. The threads aren't toys. If you pull the wrong one…"
She didn't finish the sentence, but the warning was clear. Shion nodded and returned his focus to the threads. One by one, he targeted the Hunters, each pull sending another creature back into the void.
Finally, the last Hunter fell, its form dissipating into smoke. The village was silent, save for the crackling of fires and the labored breathing of the survivors. Shion collapsed to his knees, his entire body trembling with exhaustion.
Lyria knelt beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You did well," she said softly. "But you need to be careful. That power of yours… it's not something to use lightly."
Shion nodded, though he could barely keep his eyes open. The adrenaline was wearing off, leaving him drained and overwhelmed. As the villagers began to regroup, a sense of relief washed over the village, though the damage was clear. Homes were destroyed, and several villagers were injured—some gravely.
Elder Mirelle appeared, guided by a young woman. Despite her frailty, she walked with purpose, her sightless eyes scanning the scene as if she could see everything.
"You've saved them," she said, her voice carrying an air of finality. "But this is only the beginning. The Abyss will not stop, and neither can you."
Shion looked up at her, his body heavy with exhaustion but his mind racing. "What am I supposed to do?"
"Learn," Mirelle said. "Train. Master the threads, or they will master you. Your journey begins here, Shion Takahashi. The fate of Aurelia may well rest in your hands."
As her words sank in, Shion felt a mix of fear and determination. He didn't know what lay ahead, but he knew one thing for certain: he couldn't turn back now. The threads of fate had already begun to weave his path, and he would follow it—wherever it might lead.