The Loom spoke again. But this time, it was not the fractured tone that had haunted her before.
It was softer. Closer. Almost maternal.
You struggle because you do not see. The wound is not a curse, Ahri. It is a gift. In it lies the memory of everything the pattern rejected.
Ahri stiffened. "You sound different."
Because you are listening differently.
The second Voice wove itself gently around her thoughts. Unlike the first, it did not demand obedience. It promised understanding.
The Loom does not bind you. You bind yourself, clinging to illusions of freedom. Let go. Let yourself be thread, and you will know peace.
Ahri almost believed it. Almost. The gentleness was a trap. She felt it. Yet its words wormed into the hollow spaces left by her sacrifices.
"What are you?" she whispered.
I am what the Loom forgot it was. I am mercy without order. And I am waiting to be made whole again.
Hyun-tae stirred at her side, whispering in his fractured voice, "Don't listen. It wants you to weave its prison."
Ahri's chest ached. Which voice was truth? Which was a lie? Or were both merely faces of the same endless hunger?