The Obsidian Court did not exist on any map.
It slithered through rumors, shifted with the wind, and reshaped itself when stared at too long. Deep beneath the Blackglass Mountains, in a hall lit by moonlight that had never touched a sky, the veiled figure from before sat once more—before a shattered mirror now stitched together with thread made of memory.
Whispers danced like smoke.
"The Magi walks again…"
"The seal weakens…"
"The tapestry trembles…"
The veiled figure raised a hand. "Summon him."
A black flame burst into being—and from it stepped a man with silver hair, no eyes, and a smile that never reached his lips.
"Hello, Dee," the man said softly. "Miss me?"
Flashback — 3,970 Years Ago
"You're insane, Kassor," Dee Megus had said, arms crossed, standing ankle-deep in threads inside the Hall of Pattern. "You can't just replace the weave."
Kassor Vanthel had smiled the same smile, the kind you slap off a friend's face during a moral crisis. "Why not? You wove fire. I'll weave freedom. A world not bound by the threads—but rewritten by will."
"You're going to break the world."
"I'm going to fix it."
"You're not a god."
"No," Kassor had said. "But I did sleep in a divinely cursed temple last night."
Dee had stabbed him twenty-three minutes later.
Kassor died laughing.
Present — Obsidian Court
"But you died," Dee said.
He and the others had just stepped into the Court uninvited—courtesy of Dee's terribly illegal teleportation trick that involved sneezing, singing off-key, and ignoring the laws of magic.
Kassor opened his arms wide. "Apparently, not hard enough!"
Vampher tilted his head. "Why are the undead always so dramatic?"
"I'm not undead," Kassor sniffed. "I'm pattern-bound. My soul is stitched into this place. Death couldn't quite untangle me."
Hiro blinked. "That sounds illegal."
"Oh, it was," Dee said. "I invented the rule after I killed him."
"Touching," Kassor said. "Now. Down to business."
He snapped, and reality rippled. Black thread spiraled up like vines, encasing the walls in an unnatural webwork.
"I am going to remake the world, Dee. The old threads are frayed. The gods ignore us. And you… you left."
"I left because I got bored," Dee said. "Not because I thought your idea was good."
"I only failed," Kassor said, stepping down from the obsidian throne, "because I was alone. But now…"
He gestured to the shadows—and dozens of cloaked figures stepped forward, faces hidden, threads dancing at their fingertips.
"We are the Reweavers," Kassor declared.
"…That's a stupid name," Hiro muttered.
Vampher nodded. "You couldn't go with something cooler like Threadlords or Tapestry Knots?"
Kassor twitched. "It's not about the name—"
"It's always about the name," Dee said, hands behind his back. "If you want to overthrow reality, at least brand it properly."
One of the Reweavers nervously raised a hand. "I did vote for 'Stitchblades,' Master Kassor."
"Shut up, Renald."
The Fight that Wasn't
Tension crackled. Threads coiled. Magic hummed.
Dee smiled. "You really want to do this again?"
Kassor raised a brow. "You can't kill me this time."
"I don't need to," Dee said. "I brought backup."
Hiro stepped forward and dramatically pulled out…
A banana.
Everyone stared.
"It's infused with cursed thread essence," Hiro said solemnly. "Ahem. Probably."
"Banana him," Dee said.
Hiro yeeted the banana with heroic force. It slapped Kassor in the forehead, bounced off, and exploded into smoke.
Everyone coughed.
When the air cleared, Kassor's veil was gone, revealing… no face.
Just thread.
"You're not Kassor," Dee whispered. "You're… a weave ghost."
The creature laughed, voice warping. "Close. I am the Echo. What Kassor left behind in the pattern. I fed on gods' forgotten dreams, on discarded spells, on lost magic. I am the thread beneath your weave."
"That's…" Hiro said, squinting. "Honestly kind of cool."
The Escape — Via Goat
"We have to go," Dee said.
"But we just got here!" Vampher said, slicing through a wave of threadlings that oozed from the floor.
Dee grabbed Hiro and Vampher, tapped the wall, and summoned a glowing sigil shaped like a goat.
"The Goat of Unreason?" Vampher groaned. "Again?"
"It's fast!" Dee shouted, and they were pulled through the sigil in a blur of colors, hoofbeats, and random facts about cheese.
They landed in a cabbage field.
"Where are we?" Hiro asked.
"Somewhere safe," Dee said.
Behind them, the goat exploded.
Elsewhere — Threads Ripple
In the deepest part of the world, the sealed mountain stirred again. One rune blinked out.
Far above, a sky-watcher screamed as the stars twisted.
And in the city of Ailtheen, a child spoke a word that turned water into sand.
The weave frayed.
Back at the Inn — Post-Goat Recovery
"So," Vampher said, drinking soup. "You fought a madman three thousand years ago. He died. But left behind a thread ghost. Now it's back. And trying to rewrite magic."
"Yes," Dee said, sipping tea. "Also, Hiro might've cursed a chicken."
"It attacked me first!" Hiro yelled.
Vampher frowned. "So what now?"
Dee looked toward the moon. "Now… we find the rest of the Seals. We stop the Echo. We protect the weave."
"And do it all with banana grenades?" Vampher said.
"Preferably."