The door sealed behind Silas with a sound like breathing.
The room was silent but alive. Every surface pulsed faintly with light that moved like veins beneath the stone. Scrolls hovered midair, twisting slowly. They wrote in ink made of starlight and erased themselves just as quickly. The man without eyes sat still at the center, robes pooling like shadows around him. His tattoos writhed quietly, shapes folding into languages Silas could almost read.
Aelira stood at the threshold and did not enter.
The man lifted his chin slightly. Though he had no eyes, Silas felt the weight of his gaze. It pressed deeper than the skin. It searched.
"You carry more than you know," the man said softly.
"I came for answers," Silas replied.
"You came because the world pushed you here. But now that you are here, I will give you a choice."
Silas stepped closer. "I am listening."
The man raised one hand. A scroll drifted down and unrolled in the air. Upon it, images appeared. A younger version of Silas walking through a world of broken cities and false friends. The alley. The betrayal. The silence. His death.
Then another scene bloomed.
It showed the orb.
The light.
The tower.
And something else.
A figure cloaked in black flame, standing at the edge of a void made of shattered stars. It wore no face. Its hands were raised, holding threads of light between its fingers. One thread glowed brighter than the others. It pulsed in time with Silas's heartbeat.
The man spoke again.
"You were not chosen by accident. The Abyss rarely acts. When it does, it is to restore balance."
"What balance?" Silas asked.
"The balance between what exists and what should never have existed. The being you saw. The one holding the threads. That is the Weaver."
Silas stared at the figure on the scroll.
"The Weaver does not create. It arranges. It binds and releases. Long ago, it spun a thousand souls into the fabric of a forgotten world. One of those threads was yours."
"I died," Silas said slowly. "So my thread broke."
"No," the man replied. "Yours was cut. Deliberately."
The scroll snapped shut and vanished.
Silas felt something curl in his chest. Anger. Not the kind that burned quickly. This one smoldered like coals buried under snow.
"Why?"
The man stood now.
"Because someone feared what you would become."
Silas stepped forward. "What am I?"
The man did not answer immediately. Instead, he reached into the air and pulled down a mirror. The surface rippled as if made of smoke.
"Look."
Silas saw himself.
But not as he was.
In the mirror, his body shimmered. Golden lines coursed through his arms, legs, and chest like rivers of molten thought. His eyes were filled with stars. Around him swirled shapes too vast to be described. Planets bent near his hands. Light obeyed him.
He staggered back.
"That is not me."
"Not yet," the man agreed. "But it is inside you. Hidden now. Growing slowly. It will awaken in time."
"Then what happens?"
The man smiled.
"Then the gods will fear you."
Silas breathed in deeply. The air felt heavier now.
"What must I do?"
"You must walk a path that has no end. You must survive trials meant to break minds older than time. You must face those who remember the name you once carried before your soul was folded into this world."
Silas's eyes narrowed.
"You know my real name?"
The man nodded.
"But I cannot give it to you. Not yet. You must earn it."
Silas looked down at his hands again. The golden light within him pulsed once more, brighter now.
"I will earn it," he said.
"Then your first trial awaits."
The floor trembled beneath them.
The walls cracked.
Outside the chamber, a distant bell began to toll. Not one made of metal. It was a sound like collapsing stars.
Aelira stepped in at last.
"They found him," she said quickly. "The Hunters."
Silas turned to her. "Who are the Hunters?"
She did not hesitate.
"The ones sent to erase what should not exist. They are drawn to your aura."
The man pointed to the far wall. It opened, revealing a long corridor of twisting stone.
"Run," he said. "You are not ready to face them yet."
Silas did not argue.
He followed Aelira into the dark.
Behind him, the mirror shattered.
The scrolls burned to white ash.
And the chamber was sealed once more.