She had stopped counting days.
In the Starbound Execution Plane, time was an illusion—looping, folding, fading. Light here did not shine; it pulsed with judgment. The sky was a constant canvas of twilight, streaked with runes that moved like scars across clouds. Gravity bent oddly. Sound traveled sideways.
And in its coldest, deepest cell, chained between monoliths forged from divine ore, Sira sat unmoving.
Her hands were bound by Ecliptic Shackles—instruments forged from collapsed stars and etched with Heaven's ancient script. Her feet floated just above the ground, suspended between what was and what would never be. Yet still… she breathed.
Eyes closed. Heart slow. Mind quiet.
She had learned early: to resist was to feed the prison. To scream was to wake the wardens. And to cry? To cry was to draw the gaze of the Threadsmen—faceless guardians that unspooled fate strand by strand, unraveling the sanity of those imprisoned.
But she wasn't afraid.
She had seen too much to fear anymore.
🌒 The Memory that Burns
Somewhere beneath the layers of divine seal and psychic suppression, a memory pulsed like a heartbeat.
A boy—face blurred, eyes golden-amber—stood in a place of ruin, whispering her name.
"Zairo…" she breathed aloud.
The chains around her glowed. The seals tightened. Pain lanced through her bones.
But she smiled anyway.
He saw me.
It meant the Soul Veins had awakened.
It meant the world had shifted.
And it meant... the fate they feared was beginning to fracture.
🔒The Watcher Comes
Footsteps.
Not loud, but undeniable.
From the far end of the corridor floated a figure in white—robed in starlight, face veiled, crowned with a halo that did not shine, but bled.
"Prisoner 3-V," the figure spoke, voice echoing with unnatural harmony. "You have been marked for Witness Protocol. You will answer."
Sira lifted her eyes slowly. They no longer glowed—but deep within, a storm brewed.
"I have nothing to say to fate's lapdogs."
The figure paused.
"He has touched the Veins," it said.
Sira's lips tightened."And you're afraid."
"We are beyond fear," the Watcher replied. "We are the Executors of Heaven's Will."
Silence.
Even here, in the highest prison of creation, silence could feel like thunder.
💫Hope in Chains
After the figure left, Sira allowed herself a single breath of hope.
They didn't know it yet, but the Soul Veins had connected them. The bond wasn't broken—it was growing. And soon, Zairo would come. Not as a savior. Not as a hero.
But as a force Heaven couldn't bind.
"You're late," she whispered to the stars that weren't stars. "But you'll come. I know you will."
Far, far away, in another realm, a single thread of starlight escaped the edge of the Loom… and drifted toward a boy standing alone on a broken mountain.
He looked up.
He felt her