Aiden awoke to a dull ache behind his eyes.
He was back in Lyra's room—blankets drawn up, a faint glowstone humming near the window. Outside, the village was quiet again. The fires were gone. But so were the smiles.
He tried to sit up.
"Easy," came Lyra's voice.
She sat by the doorway, armor half-removed, a line of dried blood on her sleeve. Her eyes met his—not angry, not afraid. Just tired.
"You were out for two days," she said.
Aiden blinked. "Two…?"
"You burned through a Thread too fast. That's not normal, even for spellcasters. You reached into something you don't understand."
Aiden nodded weakly. "I was trying to save her."
Lyra looked away. "You did."
A pause.
"Three others didn't make it."
The words hit hard. Even though Aiden barely knew these people, it still felt like a cut across something deep.
Lyra stood and walked over, handing him a cup of bitter-smelling tea. "The elders are holding a meeting at dusk. They want to decide what to do with you."
"Because of what I did?"
"No," she said. "Because of what you are."
---
That evening, Aiden walked—slowly—toward the elder hall, supported by a carved staff Elric had left for him. The village had changed. People didn't meet his gaze. Children were kept inside. Whispers followed him like shadows.
But someone did watch him openly.
An old man.
He sat by the river's edge, wrapped in gray robes, with a pendant shaped like a spiral thread.
When Aiden passed, the man spoke. "You don't pull on a river without stirring the sea."
Aiden stopped.
The man turned his head, eyes like burned gold. "You're the first Thread-Soul to awaken in five hundred years. The last one ended a war. What will you end?"
Aiden opened his mouth, but the man only smiled and said, "Not yet, boy. But soon."
Then he vanished.
---
Inside the elder hall, voices rose.
Some wanted Aiden gone. Others feared what the Ash Circle might do if they found him here. A few wanted to hide him underground.
Aiden stepped forward, leaning on the staff.
"I never asked for this," he said quietly. "But I won't run. I'll learn. I'll fight, if I have to. But I won't let more people die because of me."
The hall fell silent.
And then… a slow clap echoed from the doorway.
A tall figure entered, wrapped in travel-stained robes, a blade on his back, and a scar across his jaw.
"I'll teach him," the man said.
Lyra's eyes widened. "Torian?"
The stranger nodded once. "If he's going to survive what's coming… he'll need more than courage."
---