Solin's boots clicked against the stone streets as he and Lirien made their way through the winding alleys of Althmire, a city that seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat. The air here was always thick, filled with the scent of incense, ash, and the distant hum of magic. Despite the city's ancient walls and towering spires, Althmire had the feeling of a living, breathing organism—its roots tangled deep within the Weave itself. And like any living thing, it was now beginning to show signs of decay.
The morning sun barely touched the tops of the city's twisted iron spires, leaving most of the streets shadowed and cold. Lanterns hung from every building, their arcane glow dim but steady. Above them, the sky was a deep slate gray, clouds thick with the coming of the afternoon's storm. This wasn't just the weather—it was the Weave. A storm was always brewing, and it wasn't always weather that came with it.
Althmire had once been a city of prosperity, built on the intricate weaving of reality itself. Its citizens—Weavers of all kinds—had built the city's foundations by pulling at the Threads of Time, Matter, and Emotion. Buildings shifted and grew, streets reformed themselves when necessary, and the people adapted with the same fluidity. The Weave was part of their very identity. Every home, every shop, every corner of the city was shaped by it.
Now, the Weave here felt different. Thinner, as though too many Threads had been pulled too often and the city's foundation was beginning to crumble. It was a quiet ache, felt more in the bones than seen with the eye. No one spoke of it directly, but there was a quiet understanding among the Weavers—something was wrong, and they weren't sure if they could fix it.
Solin could feel it more acutely than most. His hands itched, desperate to reach into the Weave and try to repair the damage, but he knew better than to trust his instincts in a city this unstable. A wrong move, a single tug too hard, and it could all come crashing down.
Lirien, however, seemed to move through the city with a casual grace. Her eyes flicked from building to building, her expression unreadable. She had a way of navigating this place, as if the streets and buildings were part of an intricate puzzle she could solve without even thinking about it. But to Solin, it was all too fragile.
"Do you ever just… look at it all and think we've already lost?" Lirien asked, glancing at the twisting iron spires overhead.
Solin glanced at her, his eyes narrowing. She was new—freshly recruited to the task force dedicated to maintaining the balance of the Weave, assigned to him as part of the effort to investigate the growing instability. She hadn't seen the worst of it yet, but she would soon enough.
"I think if we'd already lost, we wouldn't still be here," he replied, his voice firm but not unkind. "But we're getting close."
Lirien raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with that answer. She wasn't just another recruit who would fade into the background. She had a sharp mind, one that could piece things together faster than most. Solin had been assigned to train her, to show her the complexities of the Weave and the dangers they faced, even if it meant explaining things he usually preferred to keep buried.
"You've been at this a long time," she continued. "Do you ever feel… like we're just part of some bigger pattern? Like we're not in control anymore?"
Solin stopped walking, looking at her for a long moment. She was asking the questions most people didn't dare to voice, especially those new to the struggle. It was the fear of losing control that gnawed at him, too, though he wouldn't admit it aloud.
"We're always part of the pattern," Solin finally said, his voice lowering. "But that doesn't mean we're powerless."
He adjusted the straps on his cloak and started walking again, his steps purposeful. Lirien fell into step beside him, not asking more questions for now. It wasn't that he didn't want to answer them—it was that explaining everything to her at once would overwhelm her. She was still too fresh, too new to the consequences of the Weave's unraveling.
They passed a small open-air market, and Solin's attention flicked to a group of Threadbinders gathered around a stall. They were using magic to manipulate the fabric of reality, shaping it into decorative patterns on the air itself. Solin's eyes lingered for a moment longer than they should have. He could feel the Weave stretching, thinning under their hands, but none of them seemed to notice.
Lirien's gaze was focused ahead, but Solin saw the way her eyes flitted over the people, taking in their every movement. She had a way of observing people that made her seem far older than her years. In the short time he'd worked with her, Solin had learned that Lirien was capable, but her knowledge of the Weave was still limited. She was quick to learn, but he knew she hadn't yet grasped the full depth of what they were up against.
"There's a difference between reading about the Weave and living with it," Solin said after a moment. "You'll learn that soon enough. The people who work here—Threadbinders, Echo Callers, the rest—they think they control it. But no one truly does. The Weave isn't meant to be controlled, Lirien. It's a living thing."
Her expression remained neutral, but Solin could see the flicker of understanding behind her eyes. She'd heard about the Weave, studied it as part of her recruitment process, but it was something else entirely to feel it, to live in a world where the very fabric of reality could unravel at any moment.
"That's why they've assigned you to me," Solin continued, slowing his pace just a fraction. "You're here to understand the dangers. To help contain it. But don't mistake the structure of the city for stability. It's fragile. The more we twist at the Weave, the more it threatens to break."
"I know," Lirien said softly, "but that's why I'm here, isn't it? To learn how to fix it. To learn what's really going on."
Solin turned to her then, his gaze steady but intense. "What's going on is bigger than you or me. It's bigger than Althmire. The Weave is breaking, and we don't know how long it will hold."
Lirien didn't respond right away. She just looked ahead, her face betraying little emotion. But Solin knew she was listening. He'd seen recruits crumble under the weight of the truth before, but Lirien wasn't like them. She was tougher than she looked, and that would serve her well in the days to come.
"You'll need to understand one thing before we go any further," Solin added, his voice hardening. "You're not just here to stop the unraveling. You're here to survive it."