The Weaver's scream tore through the void.
Not sound—time.
Every survivor's timer shattered into fragments of light, digits spilling into the air like broken glass. The desert beneath them dissolved completely. Now, they stood on nothing—an endless abyss woven only by the Weaver's threads.
Each strand hummed with infinite possibilities, futures they would never live, pasts they would never escape.
And at the center, the Weaver spread its arms wide. Its hollow chest blazed with spiraling timers, every tick overlapping into an unbearable cacophony.
"Unravel. Become nothing."
---
Elara clutched her chest, her timer glitching violently. She saw herself dying over and over—crushed, drowned, erased. Every vision felt real. Her knees buckled.
But she forced her light outward, burning brighter, shielding Mira and Kael behind her. "Not yet! Not while I'm still here!"
Mira pressed her back against Elara's shield, spear shaking in her grip. Tears streamed down her face. "I—I can't even tell what's real anymore—"
Elara snapped, "Then trust me! Just fight, Mira!"
And somehow, that was enough. Mira's spear flared, cutting through a strand of the Weaver's web. The thread screamed as it broke, like the death of an entire timeline.
---
Kael wasn't so lucky.
The Weaver's strands dug deeper into him, embedding themselves into his bones. His body convulsed violently as the threads pulled him in every direction at once. His timer glowed blank, then negative, then infinite.
He was unraveling.
"Kael!" Lysa darted forward, slicing at the threads with both daggers. Each cut tore into her hands, splitting her skin open, blood mixing with fragments of light. She hissed but didn't stop. "You're not going to take him!"
Kael's eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he focused on her. His lips trembled, voice a whisper. "Lysa… if it—takes me—don't let it take—you too."
"Shut up and breathe!" she snarled, even as the threads tightened around her wrists.
---
And then Aelric moved.
He launched himself through the collapsing void, sword blazing with corrupted fire. His laughter echoed across the abyss—hoarse, bloody, unyielding.
The Weaver's threads converged on him, hundreds of strands lashing forward. Each carried the weight of an erased future. Each carried the promise of his obliteration.
But Aelric didn't dodge.
He embraced.
His corrupted arm flared, tendrils lashing outward, tangling with the Weaver's threads. The infection burned hotter than ever before, consuming him, burning him alive from the inside.
The whispers in his veins screamed—give in, surrender, become hollow.
And still, he laughed.
"Come on then! Try and erase me!"
---
For a heartbeat, the Weaver faltered.
The fractured timers in its chest stuttered. The endless ticking hesitated.
And Aelric struck.
His sword plunged into the Weaver's hollow chest, cutting straight through the spiral of broken timers. Light exploded outward, burning across the void.
The Weaver screamed, threads convulsing violently. The survivors were thrown back, shields shattering, illusions scattering.
Aelric's corrupted arm burned to the bone, but he pushed deeper, roaring through blood and agony. "You don't get to choose how I end!"
---
The timers shattered.
The Weaver's chest split apart, fragments of broken digits scattering into the void like dying stars. The threads whipped wildly, snapping free from Kael, from Lysa, from the desert itself.
Mira collapsed, sobbing, as the false deaths vanished. Elara dragged her close, holding her steady, light flickering weakly. Lysa pulled Kael back, both of them bleeding but alive.
And at the center, Aelric stood with his sword buried in the Weaver's heart, corrupted arm burning away piece by piece.
The Weaver's fractured face loomed close, its voice trembling for the first time.
"…Fracture. You should not… exist."
Aelric grinned, blood dripping from his teeth.
"Yeah. That's the fun part."
And with one final roar, he ripped the sword upward, cleaving the Weaver in two.
---
The void collapsed.
Light consumed everything—threads burning, timers disintegrating, the abyss folding in on itself. The survivors screamed as the world fell apart around them.
Elara clutched Mira tight. Lysa shielded Kael with her own body.
And Aelric—Aelric let the light take him. His corrupted arm shattered completely, black fire bursting outward. His digits flickered one last time—[00:00:00]—then steadied.
---
Silence.
Then—sand.
The survivors gasped as they found themselves lying back in the desert. The dunes had returned, the stars steady above. The Weaver was gone. Its threads, its hollow chest, its endless ticking—vanished like smoke.
Elara sat up slowly, chest heaving. Her timer was steady again, though dimmer than before. She looked around frantically. "Mira? Kael? Lysa?"
All three stirred, battered, bloody—but alive.
Relief washed through her… until she realized one figure was missing.
"Aelric?"
Her voice cracked. She scrambled to her feet, searching the dunes. "Aelric!"
---
And then she saw him.
He stood at the edge of the dune, sword dragging in the sand. His corrupted arm was gone—burned away entirely. His body shook with every breath. His grin was still there, but faint, exhausted.
Elara ran to him, catching his shoulders before he collapsed. "You idiot—you almost—"
"Almost?" he rasped, blood spilling down his chin. "Elara… that wasn't almost. That was the end."
But his digits glowed steady on his wrist. Not blank. Not fractured.
For the first time in years—they were whole.
---
The survivors gathered around him, silent in awe. The desert was still. The ticking was gone.
But none of them spoke the truth aloud:
The Weaver was destroyed.
But the cost… wasn't finished yet.
---
To be continued…