The Sealess pulled the first thread, and the world unraveled into mountains, seas, and wildlife.
Now, centuries later, mortals pull their fragile strands in the shadow of it. The empires of Syterium rise and fall on the strength of those threads: warriors tearing at their own to gain speed and fury, nations binding theirs to stone and steel, and tyrants forcing cooperation where none was meant to be. But threads fray. Threads snap, people die... but are they truly forgotten? Is death permanent?
The blessings of a god. The blessings of a father. The blessings of a mother. The blessings of a stranger. The blessings of a-
"BOY! Did you listen to a word i said?"
A gruff voice cut through his imagination, as if it were cloth. A man with blue eyes, scruffy beard, black ponytail and a slightly athletic big bodied build spoke.
The young man stared.
"Ah sorry father, please repeat."
The young man replied with a tiny smile. The boy puts the book on the grassy patch of green, pushing himself up from the tree.
The boy's father squinted his eyes, scratching his beard he sighed.
"Boy you need too get back to-"
a voice interrupted the boy's father, it was sweet and lovely it was."Boys supper!"
The boy's father released a breath again.
"After supper you're getting back to wood chopping boy! No books until bed." The man huffed and grabbed the boy's book.
The boy's smile faltered as his father tucked the book beneath a thick arm, the leather cover vanishing into calloused hands.
"Okay father."
"Fire wood is a need, books are a want. Books won't split firewood, and they sure won't fill your stomach" The man gruffed and puffed walking down a dirt path, that led towards a cabin embedded in a hill. "Boy, you heard your mother, supper now."
The boy lingered a moment beneath the tree, eyes drawn to the horizon where the last shreds of daylight spilled over the mountains. The colors bled into one another like woven strands, threads pulled across the sky. His fingers twitched, as if tempted to tug at them.
"Hurry it up!" His father's voice ruined the scene. His gruff voice bleeding into the sky, as if it were made of cotton.
"Yes father!" The boy jolted to his feet a smile seeping through. A soft jog led him towards his fathers side, a soft hug.The man patted the boy's side and smiled.
The cabin door swings open, the young boy running inside and sitting at his seat. The man walked in aswell but instead of sitting he kisses his wife, then sits.
"Mother, mother whats for supper?" The boy questions a smile still on his face.
The young lady smiled, her blue eyes dazzling with love at the boy, her golden hair flying in the air, as she spoke.
"Well its soap today, my little sorey."
She places a pot on the table, passing the boys bowls she sits down.
"Boy pass your bowl." His father guffs and as the boy does so his father pours him a portion, and passes it back. "Eat up, Boy."
The little boy drinks from the bowl like a dog who hasnt seen food in weeks, finally getting fed.
"Quite enjoying that Boy?" The boy's father huffs out.
"Soren honey, would you like some bread with that?" Soren's mother asks with a chuckle.
"Ah yes please mother! And yes father its delicious!" Soren returns.
"Cant blame ya there, im on my forth bowl!" Soren's father laughs out with a huff.
After dinner soren's father pats his back.
"Get to chopping Boy, I want twenty logs cut in twenty minutes." His father huffs out clearly tired he heads inside.
Soren picks a log up and places it down, picking up a axe he-
_/swoosh\_
Axe flying down cuts it in half.
Soren picks a log up and places it down, picking up a axe he-
_/swoosh\_
Soren's hand slips dropping the axe it digs deep into the stump.
"Ops... lets try again"
After cutting the wood soren rushes inside placing it by the fire, chucking a single log in.
"Father, could i have my book?" Soren tugs at his sleeping father's sleeve.
His father snores not waking up, he stayed out cold on the chair.
"Mothe-" the boys interrupted by a thump on the floor, his book lands on the carpet. his mother grins and chuckles. "Soren We love you." He nods grabs the leather book and rushes up the stairs.
"Dont stay up too late!"
"Where was i?" The boy under his bed reading in his mind a passage.
The blessings of a god. The blessings of a father. The blessings of a mother. The blessings of a stranger. The blessings o-
Drifting to the realm of dreams before he can finnish.
The threads stretched across the sky, growing tighter with each passing year. What was once a soft weave of color had thickened, frayed, and tangled just like Soren himself. Seasons came and went, unnoticed in the hum of daily life, until the boy became a man.
"Boy! Im thirsy get me a-" the gruff voice was silenced be the youthfull voice man.
"Dad catch." That instant a cold beer glass was chucked to the man.
"Thanks boy." The mans voice gruff he thanked soren as he poured.
"Oh yeah father since in eighteen tomo-" a load spitting noise, then comes a coughing. "Thats tomorrow?!" His gruff voice exhales. "Um yeah... did you forget?" soren says in a worried tone.
"You better get packing up then." The gruff man laughs.
"What about m-" a women interrupted
"Honey! We dont live on the galaw clarvis. Eighteen you're kicked out this is the askatasuna empire!"
Soren sighs and rushes up to his room. packing his stuff up picking one book before going to sleep. "Yeah yeah mother i get it."
Soren selects a book his shelf and starts reading.
「Long ago, when the Askatasuna Empire was still young, a shepherd boy tended his flock high in the mountain meadows. From his hilltop, he could see valleys stretching forever, rivers winding like silver threads, and the watch-fires of the distant cities.
But the mountains were not safe. Wolves prowled the forests, and raiders crept through the passes. To keep himself amused, the boy would sometimes cry out
"Raiders! Raiders are coming down the slope!"
The villagers would drop their tools and rush up the hill with spears, only to find the boy laughing, his sheep grazing in peace.
Another day, he shouted
"Wolves! A whole pack of them is upon me!"
And again the villagers ran to him, breathless and angry, while the boy mocked them for their foolishness.
This he did again and again, until the villagers grew weary of his games.
Then, one twilight, as the peaks turned crimson with sunset, a shadow moved among the rocks. This time it was no game. A great beast not wolf, not bear, but something twisted from the wildcrept down from the upper cliffs. Its breath was smoke, its claws sharp as iron.
The boy's heart froze. He shouted until his voice cracked.
"IT'S A HELLBORN!!!"
But the villagers only shook their heads in their homes below.
"That boy lies like a crow," they said. "We will not climb for him again."
So the beast tore through the flock. And when dawn came, the meadow was silent but for the echo of the boy's last scream on the wind.」
Soren Finnished reading and drifted to sleep...
The threads of dawn loosened from the horizon, gold strands pulled taut until they spilled across the fields.
By midday, the weave of light burned white and blinding, every stitch humming with heat and toil.
As evening came, the colors dimmed, threads fraying into orange and violet, unwinding slowly into silence.
And when night fell, the loom was empty save for the faint, silver strands of stars, waiting for the weave to begin again.