The Steamwagon's boiler coughed and sputtered to a halt along Eryndral's outer Runepath. Alucent climbed down and nearly collapsed. He felt the numbness and weakness in his legs, and with a sigh, he muttered to himself, "They are allowed to quit; it's been six hours coming from Iron Vale."
It's six in the morning now, and dawn was breaking; maybe it was ten degrees. Alucent couldn't actually tell, but he noticed something wrong and different.
The fog that rolled through the Verdant Vale had always been dense, even more so at dawn, but this was different. There was a shimmer to it now; he noticed it gave a glow, a different type of glow. A faint turquoise glow caught in the mist and also refracted like emotion made visible. The fog swirled with purpose, threading between buildings and across cobblestones in patterns that he felt were deliberate.
What's this? When did it start? His thought was filled with confusion.
He inhaled and tasted something metal. Not the familiar tang of coal smoke or brass fittings that normally characterized Eryndral. This was sharper, colder; he thought this was breathing in a memory of something that hadn't happened yet.
"You see it too?" Raya asked him quietly.
She'd dismounted behind him, but he didn't know, as he was lost in thoughts of the new change in environment. He turned his head to look back at Raya, her green eyes fixed on the turquoise-tinged mist. At twenty-four years of age now, she has lived her entire life in Eryndral, and she knows this isn't how it has been, and she, like the rest of the people living in Eryndral, knows when the city feels wrong.
"It wasn't like this when we left for Iron Vale," she continued. "But if I am to guess, this started maybe at midnight."
Alucent stared up at the sky and then lowered his head to focus on the road as he continued walking. He didn't reply to her, but he got more confused and puzzled about the whole situation.
The Steamwagon had cost them dearly to rent a place at one of the most luxurious parts of Eryndral. A hundred Goldweaves for the round trip, expensive even with the Voidshard cargo they'd secured. But speed had mattered to them more than economy when fleeing coalition territory.
Gryan hauled the three Voidshard crates down; his mechanical arm whined under the weight. The brass limb extended 0.8 meters from his shoulder, Rune-powered hydraulics groaning as he set the crates on the cobblestones. At thirty-two with gray at his temples, he moved with military precision that came from years in the iron conclave before the desertion.
"These things are giving me a headache." Gryan muttered, eyeing the crates like they might explode. Which given Voidshards volatile fragments of compressed void corruption. Valued at twenty Goldweaves each on the black market, it wasn't an unreasonable concern.
Tavin was the last one out of the steamwagon. Twelve years old, clutching his Runetokens like they might protect him from whatever his visions were showing. His hazel eyes had that distant look again.
"The Loom," Tavin whispered. "Veyris is pulling threads. This turquoise glow, I don't know what's wrong, but it's bleeding through from somewhere else, somewhere that doesn't belong here."
"Hmm, that's concerning," Alucent said while still walking. If Tavin is correct, that means Veyris must be the one causing this change. We will have to talk to Sir Vorn first, though.
Lost in thought as he moves forward, Alucent watched the Marketplaza stretch before them. Across half a square kilometer of commercial activity already stirring despite the early hour. Are they not seeing the change, or are they just pretending not to notice since they can't do anything about it? Alucent criticized internally.
Steam-powered stalls hissed at eighty degrees as merchants set up their displays. This is the regular way of the Marketplaza; traders and merchants continue their businesses even if someone were to die here in this instant.
The architecture was steampunk-Victorian, with timber frames reinforced with brass fittings, decorative but functional. Gear mechanisms can be seen in the infrastructure, showing off engineering rather than hiding it.
But even with the familiar sights, it still felt off now.
Alucent looked around and stared at the beautiful Ironvine trees that lined the plaza, which stood at twenty-five meters tall, their bark shot through with metallic veins. As he stared at them, he noticed there the metallic veins were glowing now;faintly bioluminescent in the dawn light. He had walked past these trees a hundred times, and they'd never done this before. It somehow bothered him; Raya, Tavin, and Gryan all shared the same concerns in their own ways.
Merchants were selling Glowroses, the hybrid clockwork flowers. They are not changed, hmm... Did they survive this change? If they did, then that must mean there are exceptions that can't be affected.
Alucent analyzed while still watching the morning activities. These Glowroses had survived the recent Runestorm, according to the merchant, and were selling for one Silverweave each. Hahaha. These are expensive; it feels like highway robbery for something that would wilt in a week. He couldn't help but be amused by the hike in price just because they had survived the Runestorm.
But that's when he noticed something else: the Glowroses were glowing brighter than usual, their petals catching the turquoise light and amplifying it.
Guess I was wrong about it not being affected by the recent change. Where is this turquoise light even coming from? What's the origin? Alucent felt a disturbance within him; he looked up to stare at the sky again. Maybe he could figure out if the light was coming from above, but it was already bright enough in the morning, and he couldn't see the moon anymore.
The Runepaths that crisscrossed the plaza pulsed with their usual amber glow, one-meter-wide safe routes. But today even the paths seemed to hum with a different frequency, harmonics slightly out of phase.
The Central Runewell sat at the plaza's heart. Three meters in diameter, a Loom-Anchor valued at twenty Goldweaves for the construction alone. Alucent had come to this knowledge through his father's journal at home, which he reads anytime he has free time at his Steamcottage. The Runewell pulsed with soft blue-white energy, distributing Runeforce throughout the city's infrastructure, except for today, there was a faint purple tint bleeding through the blue, corruption from Iron Vale's proximity still lingering in the system.
"We need to report to Sir Vorn." Raya said, adjusting her Weaveblade. The weapon was sheathed at her hip, 0.7 meters of amber-glowing steel worth maybe five or six goldweaves. "Yes, I agree, and we must hurry," Gryan replied, still carrying the crate, stress showing in his voice.
Raya nodded back in conclusion. "He is waiting by the Runewell." her sharp green eyes firm with the three-centimeter scar on her left cheek that she has never spoken about.
They crossed the plaza. Citizens were starting their morning routines, but there was stiffness to their movements. People kept glancing at the turquoise fog, at the glowing tree veins, and at the too-bright Glowroses. So, they've also seen it; they're just actually pretending not to. He felt some relief that the people cared for an explanation and were also as confused as he was.
Sir Vorn stood by the Runewell like he'd grown roots while standing. Monocle on his right eye, fifty-eight years old, grizzled beard, stern expression that suggested he'd already cataloged every mistake they'd made during the Iron Vale raid. His rune-etched monocle clicked as it focused on them; he then tapped his cane once against the cobblestones.
"Report." Sir Vorn requested. His voice came out as if it had gravel in it.
"Voidshards secured," Alucent answered, keeping his voice steady despite exhaustion. The guilt of the guard's death at Iron Vale is eating at him from within, but even then he must make a steady report that requires professional detachment. "Three fragments in total; market value should be at sixty Goldweaves on the black market. We managed to get it out before Coalition reinforcements arrived," he continued.
"Casualties?"
"A guard. Eighteen years old, I—I killed him." The words came out flat, matter-of-factly. Like he wasn't seeing the kid's face every time he closed his eyes.
Yet Sir Vorn's expression didn't change, "Was it necessary?" he asked.
"He was reaching for an alarm crystal. Two seconds from alerting the entire outpost." Alucent pulled his tattered frock coat together. Silverweave patches covered in the guard's blood held it together in places; each patch had cost him about a Silverweave per meter to apply. "If I hadn't stopped him, we'd all be dead," he said, trying to justify the murder.
"Then it was necessary." Sir Vorn said, then turned his attention to the Voidshards crates. Hearing those words, Alucent felt a wave of justification wash over him. "These need to be purified before they're usable. A Thread 3 purification." Gryan held the crate firm, looked straight at Sir Vorn, and nodded. And with that, Sir Vorn immediately looked at Alucent and asked, "Can you handle it?"
I should do it; I need to show him I am not compromised to function.
"Yes, sir," Alucent said. He wore a brass Weave Anchor ring on his finger, the one that was forcefully inserted into him before he was killed in a ritual on earth, which sent him into this world called Senele. It was designed to channel Runeforce more effectively; that's what he had come to realize for now about the ring.
In this world, there are Threadweavers. Another piece of information he got from his father's journal is that apparently there are twenty major Threadweaves and ten distinct Threads to advance within, from the lowest being Thread 1 and the highest being Thread 10. Threadweavers are those like him who can scribe and etch using runeforce. They have to advance with each thread to the next within their respective threadweaves. Requiring four phases of ritual for seamless advancement.
First is the Etch Ritual, which is the start. A symbolic, emotionally grounded ritual must be performed to unlock the Thread. Second is Mastery, which is learning the control necessary to effectively use the Thread's ability. The third one is Unraveling, which means recognizing and accepting the core truth the Thread reveals, and the last one is Acceptance in Embracing the required identity shift associated with the new level.
And for performing the purification rite, him being a Thread 3 Silverline of the Rune Threadweave was enough. Although he hasn't been able to advance to Thread 4 due to his emotional instability, he had thought this should be where he proves to Sir Vorn that he is adequate and not compromised to function properly as a Scribe-Weaver.
"Well then, prove it." Said Sir Vorn. Gesturing toward an empty space near the Runewell.
Alucent moved toward where he was directed to and knelt beside the first Voidshard crate. The fragment inside was something like a dark glass, black in a way of compressed grief; looking at it, he calculated it to be at least five centimeters long. It radiated cold that has nothing to do with temperature and perhaps everything to do with existence questioning itself.
Purification required etching a rune directly onto the Voidshard's surface. Nine square centimeters of precise work; stability is needed, and Alucent knows that's why Sir Vorn agreed to him etching the purification rune, to observe him.
And since he is a Thread 3 Silverline Scribe, that meant using Bloodmark. Etching in his own blood, an ability he got when he advanced to Thread 3 Silverline.
Yeah, "Blood is memory; memory is law." I can't forget that line. Maybe when I advance into Thread 4, I don't even know what the ritual for advancing is yet. He swallowed internally as he prepared to etch.
Alucent took out his Runequill and pricked his thumb with the edge. Blood welled up, dark red against his pale skin.
He then pressed his thumb against the Voidshard.
Immediately after doing that, he felt the cold hit him. Not physical cold, an existential one. The kind that made him question whether warmth had ever existed or if he'd just been lying to himself.
The Runequill moved across the Voidshard's surface, drawing lines in blood that glowed faint blue as they settled. The purification rune took shape slowly, each sigil locking into place as he pulled Runeforce from the Runewell to counterbalance the Void Corruption.
But then.
His hands started shaking.
A flicker happened; the guard's face flashed through his mind. He was reliving the panic expression that appeared on his face right before the destruction Rune connected at the guard's chest. The way the body crumpled. Blood spraying across brass walls and onto him.
Blood is memory.
Another flicker, this time. The Rune did.
Blue light sputtered, and a spark jumped maybe one-tenth of a meter from the Voidshard's surface. Void corruption testing the containment, it was looking weak.
No, Focus. Finish the pattern; Sir Vorn is watching you. You can't mess this up.
Alucent immediately adjusted his grip and forced the next sigil into place. But the emotional interference was compromising the Etch. His guilt conflicted with the blood-memory binding, creating instability in the rune structure.
Faint whispers pressed at the edge of his consciousness now, Shadowcage Taboos, triggered by the forbidden applications of Runeforce that led to corruption. The whispers suggested shortcuts, easier paths, and ways to let the Voidshard break and see what happened.
Of course, He ignored them.
Finally, this is the final line; if I can just lock it, channel the activation through my ring. He thought as he continued etching, sweaty forehead.
Raya was looking at him with concern and hopes he succeeds.
The rune flared bright blue and stabilized. The Voidshard's corruption dulled, its aura collapsing inward as the purification took hold. Not perfect though. The Etch was flawed, carrying traces of his emotional interference, but at least it held.
Pulling his hand back, trembling, His thumb was bruised where the blood had been drawn out, and he could feel a faint hum under his skin; that meant he'd paid the vitality cost. Small pieces of his own memory gone, sacrificed to bind the corruption.
Damn, Thread 3 takes as much as it gives. I need to master it and then accept it as fast as I can so I can advance. Looking at his hands as they kept shaking, he smiled, no. He chuckled in a self-deprecating way.
"Adequate," Sir Vorn said. Just that? Two words only? Alucent couldn't believe it, but Sir Vorn continued, "Complete the other two, then report to my office. We have new assignments."
With resilience and perseverance, Alucent worked through the remaining Voidshard. The second went smoother. The third nearly sparked again when the guard's face returned, but he forced it to be stable.
By the time he had finished, the sun had cleared the horizon and the turquoise fog had almost vanished.
And then, Alucent went to Sir Vorn's office.
"Thirty Silverweaves for your successful raid," Sir Vorn said, counting out coins. "And then Copperweaves if you need to patch. There's a merchant selling Weavefibers thread near the east stalls."
Thirty Silverweaves, with the ones I already have with me at home, should be enough for a week at least.
"Thank you, sir," Alucent said.
They were about to disperse when Tavin made a small sound. His eyes had gone distant again, as they used to whenever he was seeing visions. Seeing something beyond the present.
"Something is coming," Tavin whispered. "Something unknown—I don't know what it is."
And after saying those words, the screaming started.
They each ran back outside to the Marketplace, looking straight at the direction of the sound, the screaming.
Alucent saw a figure appear from the now faint vanishing turquoise mist near the east stalls. Where Alucent is supposed to go buy some Weavefibers.
Five-foot-nine, cloaked, moving with speed that didn't look natural, jerky but still fluid. Red eyes visible under the hood.
That's a Shadebinder this early in the morning?
But this one is wrong somehow.
Shadebinders are known to be threats already. Human criminals that have been corrupted by the Void and are working for Eloha, Alucent, Raya, and Gryan have already come across them and know how to handle them.
But this one was something else.
The figure moved, and Alucent's brain couldn't track it properly. It's too fast; this is different. "Raya, can you see it?"
"Yes, but it's too fast. What's this? What's happening?" Raya answered as she stood confused, holding the unsheathed Weaveblade in hand.
"Stop talking and let's do something!" Gryan's voice broke through them.
The cloak rippled, and for a moment Alucent thought he saw extra limbs, three arms on each side, six in total, but before he could try to rationalize what he thought he just saw. The figure shifted, and he couldn't be sure anymore.
Making a move, the figure threw something; it was Voidshard darts, whistling through the air. Five centimeters long, launched at a hundred meters per second, aimed at the crowd.
"Down!" Gryan roared.
Alucent's hand moved on instinct. He etched a defensive rune in the air with his Runequill, pulling the flawed purification pattern he'd just completed. Five seconds of desperate inscription.
Blue light flared. The dart hit and dissolved into a harmless residue.
Gryan's mechanical arm swept up, catching another dart on brass plating. The impact sent sparks everywhere, with hydraulics screaming, but the block held.
Looking by his side, he saw Raya already moving, Weaveblade drawn, chasing the figure across fifty meters of plaza. Making a ten-second pursuit, she closed in on it; her blade was whistling as she aimed for joints and weak points of the shadebinder.
The Shadebinder dodge. Not human-like dodging. Superhuman agility, unlike the previous types they had fought. The speed at which it dodged baffled Raya; her face showed frustration.
It stared straight at Raya's face; her heart pounded so fast it felt like it could burst out of her chest, but it immediately retraced its gaze, giving massive distance between them both, and then. It was gone. Vanished back into the faint turquoise mist like it had never been there.
The place went silent except for scattered sobbing.
It took Raya's attention because she could even question what had just happened.
An elderly peddler lay on the cobblestone near the east stalls. Five-foot-five, gray cloak, weathered hands that had perhaps spent decades arranging flower displays. Apparently a Voidshard dart had caught him in the chest.
He didn't move and couldn't move even if he tried.
Alucent looked at the man; his hands resumed their shaking.
In the moment, Alucent walked slowly towards the body and knelt beside the body. The man's eyes stared at nothing; his last breath had left a faint shimmer in the air. A half-formed rune, memory compressed into dying intent.
Another casualty—when will I be able to actually save people? I can't even etch right, and worse, I can't even help or save people when in danger. This world is making me sad, and I thought at least I would have a much more pleasant life here.
"What in the hell was that?" Raya's voice broke through his thought; Alucent looked up at her. *Returning empty-handed, of course.* "Shadebinders don't move like that. Shadebinders don't have six arms."
Raya said. Each word came out with heavy breathing.
"I don't know," Alucent said quietly. "I haven't seen anyone like it before. The populace isn't prepared for this. Normal Shadebinders, we can handle. Rogue constructs, we can destroy. Human criminals, we arrest. but this. This? " He gestured to the now very faint turquoise fog. "This is something else entirely."
Sir Vorn approached, his cane tapping against wet cobblestones. His expression was grim.
"The world is changing," Sir Vorn said. "This turquoise fog. The bioluminescent trees. That thing that just attacked. I don't know what it is, but something is bleeding through, and it might seem as though Verdant Vale is no longer the safest place in Senele."
He then turned to Alucent. "New assignment, Verdant Hollow. There's a Steamcottage cluster there experiencing some sort of reality distortions. Four of you will investigate and contain whatever is manifesting there before it spreads."
Verdant Vale, I hope we don't arrive too late to save everyone there.
But even with this thought, Alucent nodded. Of course, work didn't wait for guilt to finish; work must be done.
The sun climbed higher now, and the unnatural shimmer had completely vanished.
It's as though this was the beginning of a mystery too deep to understand, and the citizens of Eryndral were just introduced to it.