The Emberwood welcomed us with a hush that felt like a held breath. Trees blackened by past fires formed a skeletal canopy overhead, their charred limbs creaking in a wind that carried the tang of smoke and ash. Sunlight filtered through patches of scorched foliage, casting dappled gold across a forest floor mottled with smoldering embers. Each footstep crackled, reminding me how close we walked to ruin and how fragile our hope remained.
Lian Xue walked beside me with cautious grace, her eyes flickering at every shifting shadow. She drew her cloak tighter, as if wrapping herself against the forest's sorrow. In her face I saw both fear and determination—the same struggle mirrored in my own heart. We were untested in lands where law was made by steel, not threads. The world we had fled was gone; ahead lay a realm where danger wore a human face.
Zhao Lianyin's flame flickered dimly in the dull light. She moved ahead of us, senses alert. Our path led us along a narrow trail lined with entwined roots. The blackened trunks loomed like pillars of a ruined temple, their bark scarred by old flames. At moments I felt the weight of history under my boots—whispers of those who had fallen here, their destinies consumed by fire.
A distant howl shattered the hush. Lian Xue flinched, her hand tightening on the hilt of her dagger. "Bandits," she murmured. "They lurk in these woods, preying on lost travelers." My throat tightened. Bandits sounded more ruthless than echo spirits or wardens. But fear and rage offered fuel for resolve. I set my shoulders, drawing a steady breath.
We pressed on until smoke curled above the trees: the glow of campfires. Through the gap in the charred pines we saw lantern-lit tents pitched around a ring of stones. Figures moved by the firelight—hardened faces, ragged clothing, weapons ready at their sides. The Emberwood cutthroats had found us before we found them.
We paused in the cover of undergrowth. Zhao lowered her voice. "Their threads are bound by desperation. They have stolen and killed to survive. Approach with care." Lian Xue's lips thinned. "We want only safe passage." I nodded. "We offer no threat. Let me speak with their leader." Zhao's golden eyes flicked between us. "Your blade and your words must both be true." I swallowed and stepped into the clearing.
A dozen rifles turned to follow my progress. The bandits formed a semicircle, faces lit by lantern glow. Their laughter died as I came into view. At their center stood a tall man whose scars traced stories I could not read. His gaze was cold and sharp. He tapped the pommel of his sword against the ground. "State your business, threadless one," he said, voice low and rough. "You trespass in Emberwood. Few survive crossing these woods alive."
I lifted my chin. "I am Li Xuanji," I called out. "Threadless, yes—but not powerless. This is Lian Xue, and that is Zhao Lianyin. We seek only safe travel through your land." The bandits exchanged glances, their eyes flickering between contempt and curiosity. The leader's lips curled. "Safe travel? Nothing is safe here. Why should we let you pass?" He stepped forward, boots crunching on ash.
I met his gaze. "Because we can help each other. We carry skills and power. I can forge your broken threads, offer you new paths if you trust me. Zhao can bring fire to your forge and ward off threats. Lian Xue can heal wounds with herbs she learned in Loomheart's gardens." A murmur rippled through the bandits. They knew the name Loomheart and the power it claimed. Suspicion sharpened their features.
The leader narrowed his eyes. "Show me." He drew his blade and spat a curse at the earth. In that instant, I felt the Loombreaker System's hum in my mind. Thread Analysis pulsed, mapping the bandits' bonds of fear and betrayal. I saw their lives roped to shadows of pain: stolen bread for children, lost siblings to warden raids, families burned in punitive expeditions. Each thread pulsed with desperation.
Carefully, I called on Narrative Override. I shaped a moment of calm around us, a quiet pocket in the forest's gloom. The lanterns dimmed. The men's breathing stilled. Only the soft crackle of embers remained. In that breath of silence, I spoke gently. "I see your pain. I feel your hunger. I do not ask you to surrender your scars. I only ask you to trust that you can choose your own path forward."
The leader's sword wavered, eyes closing for a heartbeat. When he opened them, I saw a flicker of something new—hope or doubt, I could not tell. He lowered his blade. "You speak with conviction," he said. "But words do not fill bellies or spare lives. Prove it." He motioned, and a bandit stepped from the circle, a boy no older than thirteen. His hands shook as he lifted a small knife toward me.
I raised Redemption in both hands and waited. The boy lunged. For a moment, I hesitated—I would not slaughter a child. The System offered Severance Strike, a fatal cut. Instead, I twisted the blade's black steel, catching his wrist in the flat of the blade. The knife flew from his hand with a ringing clang. He froze, shock and relief mingling in his eyes.
I released his wrist, stepping back. "I do not seek blood unless it flows with injustice," I said. His breathing steadied. He sank to his knees, bowing his head. The bandits around him exhaled as if they had been holding their breath. The leader studied me, then spoke softly: "Perhaps you are more than a boy with no thread." He signaled to his men. "Offer them food and water. We will see what else they can do."
Relief washed through me. Lian Xue gave me a quick nod of thanks. We followed the boy to a fire pit, where a kettle bubbled over hot coals. They handed us cups of broth and stale bread. The taste was plain but nourishing. Around the fire, we watched the bandits as they exchanged wary glances. Each face hardened by Emberwood's trials, each life a tapestry of loss.
The leader returned, seated on a stump. "My name is Ravor," he said, voice softer now. "Emberwood has become a prison for those who defy the Empire's laws. We are outcasts, survivors of warden raids and mercenary hunts. You came here fresh from Loomheart's gates. Why should we share what little we have?" I met his dark gaze. "Because I once felt what you feel. Cast out, threadless, marked as a mistake. I know the pain of having no path. But I have found a new way—a way to build our own destinies. Let me help you do the same."
Lian Xue rose to stand beside me. "You do not owe us hospitality," she said, voice steady. "But we offer our service. I know which herbs heal fever and infection. Zhao can forge steel into weapons or aid your smith. And I… I can teach you meditation to calm your hearts." Ravor studied her, his expression unreadable. Then he nodded once. "Tomorrow, we will see what you can teach us. For tonight, rest at our camp."
We settled into a small tent where coarse blankets lay. Hunger pressed at our stomachs no more, but my mind thrummed with questions. Lian Xue sat on her knees, threading a needle to mend my torn shirt. "You did well," she whispered. I winced as she stitched near my wound. "Thank you for saving me in that forest," I said. She met my eyes, regret and relief mingling in her gaze. "It was nothing. I… I am glad we have a chance to atone."
Zhao coiled beside the tent entrance, her flame reduced to a soft glow. She closed her eyes, as if centering her ancient soul. I felt her quiet presence steadying me. "Remember," she said, voice low, "the Emberwood tests every traveler. Your power must be tempered by compassion. A sword can cut a path or slash deep wounds." I nodded, feeling the weight of her words.
Sleep came fitfully. I dreamed of Loomheart's dais, the dagger in my side, then of Ravor's outlaws, broken but unbowed. I woke before dawn to the hiss of embers and the soft voices of bandits preparing for the day. Lian Xue stirred beside me, eyes heavy. I slipped out, stepping into the pre-dawn chill. The camp lay quiet, lanterns bobbing like fireflies.
I moved to the edge of the circle, where I could see a group of children peering from behind a tent flap. Their faces bore hunger and fear, but in their eyes I saw curiosity. I knelt and opened my palm, calling on Echo Archive to summon an image of warmth—a hearth back home in Loomheart, roads lined with laughter. The children's eyes widened at the vision. A small girl stepped forward, touching the air where a glowing hearth flickered for a heartbeat before fading. She smiled—a true, bright thing that warmed me more than any fire.
Lian Xue joined me, offering the children a piece of bread and a gentle word. Their small mouths crunched gratefully. I realized then that healing came in small acts. Ravor found us, nodding once. "They trust you," he said quietly. "That is worth more than swords." I felt a surge of hope.
At dawn's first light, Ravor gathered his men in the clearing. He stood before us like a general marshaling troops. "Today, we move north to the Valley of Ash," he announced. "The Wardens of Loomheart have sent hunters after your kind, threadless one. They will not stop until they erase you. We cannot let them drag our cause into the open." A murmur rose among the bandits.
I stepped forward. "I will face them," I said. "Let me be the target, not you." Ravor's scarred face softened. "You have my respect, Li Xuanji. But to protect the camp, we need you to stand with us, not alone. We fight as one." He turned to his men. "Prepare to march."
We set out under a sky smudged with gray. The forest thinned, replaced by craggy slopes and ash-strewn plains. The Valley of Ash lay ahead—a wasteland where the Empire's fires had run unchecked, leaving only ruin and resentment. Ravor's band moved with practiced stealth, each step cautious. Lian Xue and I followed, hearts bound by oath.
As we crested a scorched ridge, banners flickered in the wind—tattered flags bearing Loomheart's sigil. Below, six riders in polished armor patrolled the valley floor. Their threads shimmered silver and gold, the living proof of their divine favor. The Wardens had come for me.
Ravor signaled to halt. He crouched beside me and whispered, "They will attack from the left. Zhao and I will flank. You and Lian Xue hold the center. Use your power to break their formation." My heart thundered, but I nodded. The moment had come to prove our cause.
Lian Xue drew her dagger, eyes bright. Zhao's flame erupted along her coils. I closed my eyes and summoned Narrative Override. I wove a vision of confusion into the air around the Wardens—shadows flickering at the edge of sight, turning each step uncertain. When I opened my eyes, the riders hesitated, their formation wavering.
Zhao struck first. A pillar of flame roared from the forest edge, cutting across their line. Embers danced around the horses, and riders jerked reins to avoid the inferno. Ravor and his men charged from the ridge's flank, arrows flying. Lian Xue darted among the chaos, her blade flashing as she disarmed a Warden and helped him from his mount instead of killing him.
I lifted Redemption and unleashed Severance Strike on a third rider's banner. The blade sliced through the silk and the metal rim, severing the rider's bond with his fate. The thread above him flickered, then snapped. He stumbled, confused, the divine power draining from him. I knelt and caught him before he fell, offering him water. His eyes met mine, filled with fear and shame. "Thank you," he whispered, though I had spared him by choice, not necessity.
The battle ended as quickly as it began. The Wardens, their formation broken and their threads unbalanced, withdrew in disarray. We stood among the smoking dust and scattered banners, breathless. Ravor placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. "You have proven your worth," he said. "Today, Emberwood stands with you."
Lian Xue found me amid the aftermath. She tore free a strip of cloth and wrapped my forearm where I had cut myself catching a standard. "You fought with mercy," she said. I nodded, feeling the weight of both power and restraint settle around me like a cloak. In that moment I understood the true test of the Loombreaker: not just to break bonds, but to choose which to break and which to heal.
We tended to the wounded—bandits and Wardens alike—under Zhao's guiding flame and Lian Xue's gentle hands. As the sun dipped low, Ravor gathered us once more. "There is a pass through the Whitepeak Mountains," he said. "Beyond it lies the northern marches, where the free hold of Ashvale awaits. There, you can learn more of your power and gather others to your cause."
I looked at my companions—Lian Xue, her eyes bright with purpose; Zhao, her flame steady and warm; Ravor, scarred but true. In their faces I saw the spark of something greater than myself: a new weave of fate born from choice, compassion, and courage. I raised my blade in salute. "Then we go as one," I said. "On to Ashvale and beyond. Our story is only beginning."
And so we set our faces northward, the Valley of Ash behind us and the promise of a freer world before us. The Emberwood had tested our resolve and proved our unity. In the hush of its charred remains, we had forged bonds stronger than any thread. Our path remained unwritten, but for the first time I walked it with certainty: we would shape our own destiny, or die trying.
Chapter 3 ends.