Night fell over Ashthorne like a closing fist.
The clouds hung low and swollen, smothering the moonlight. Wind scraped against the academy towers, rattling banners and whispering along the stone corridors like a warning.
Dorm Nine was dark.
Too dark.
Lanterns flickered weakly in the hallway, their flames twisting as if choked by invisible fingers. The building breathed—wood tensing, stone groaning, doors quivering in their frames.
Lira sat awake in her room, blankets clutched to her chest, staring at the floor.
Jalen hid under his sheets, whimpering at every sound.
Marenne sat cross-legged, scribbling notes furiously while glancing at the door every few seconds.
But Caelum?
He was awake.
Waiting.
Standing in the center of his room with the calmness of a man expecting a guest.
Because tonight…
something would come.
He felt it.
A slow vibration in the floor.
A pulse.
A call.
A whisper from beneath the foundation stones.
"…bearer…
…descend…"
Caelum exhaled quietly.
"So. Tonight, then."
The air thickened.
The floorboards beneath him trembled.
Not breaking—
opening.
Thin cracks spread outward like spiderwebs, glowing faintly with a cold, pale light.
Whispers slithered through the gaps like steam.
"…closer…
…closer…
…unfold…"
Caelum extended a hand.
Thread Sense flowed from his fingertips like invisible silk, mapping the cracks, tracing each pulse in the soul-resonance of the floor.
Then—
The world darkened.
Suddenly.
Entirely.
A blanket of silence fell over Dorm Nine.
No breathing from the other rooms.
No footsteps from distant hallways.
No wind outside.
Nothing.
The building held its breath.
Then—
BOOM.
A shockwave of reality distortion ripped through the dorm.
Floorboards snapped upward like ribs breaking open.
Stone cracked.
Air twisted.
Light bent.
And something rose through the floor.
Not a creature.
Not a person.
A thread.
Thin.
Pale.
Glowing softly.
Suspended in the air like a strand cut from the fabric of reality.
Caelum stepped closer.
His heart did not race.
His breath did not shorten.
His eyes did not widen.
He simply observed.
The thread quivered, vibrating at a frequency no mortal Sigil could mimic.
"…bearer…" it whispered, voice neither sound nor thought.
"…unfold…"
A faint smile touched Caelum's lips.
"So it begins."
He reached out.
Two fingers touched the thread.
Everything stopped.
The Awakening
Silence collapsed into sound.
Darkness exploded into blinding white.
The floor dissolved under his feet.
The walls stretched into infinity.
The ceiling tore open into a swirling void.
Caelum stood in the middle of an endless, shimmering expanse—
a place without up or down, without matter or time.
Threads.
Thousands.
Millions.
Stretching like veins across the sky.
Crossing.
Splitting.
Binding.
Breaking.
Reforming.
Each glowing with different colors, energies, destinies.
A web of existence.
A map of fate.
A lattice of life, death, memory, and possibility.
Caelum's eyes widened—not in fear, but in profound recognition.
"This is the Threadway."
The first layer of conceptual reality.
Where Fateweavers walked.
Where Mindstring Entities fed.
Where concepts whispered their truths.
Where no mortal soul was meant to stand.
And yet—
He stood there perfectly.
Not straining.
Not burning.
Not breaking.
His fractured soul was hungry for this realm.
Threads fluttered toward him like moths to flame.
"…you were torn…
…so you mend…"
"…you were broken…
…so you feed…"
"…you were denied fate…
…so you will weave it…"
The voices layered, echoing, overlapping.
A chorus of forgotten Transcendents.
Or ghosts of them.
Or the echoes of their echoes.
A single thread floated before him.
White.
Pure.
Sharp enough to slice through time.
"…touch… and unfold…"
Caelum reached out.
His finger brushed the thread—
—and his soul ignited.
Not with fire.
Not with light.
With understanding.
A burst of resonance cracked through his consciousness:
Space threads
Memory threads
Soul threads
Pain threads
Death threads
Time threads
Fate threads—
ALL of them became patterns he could see for the first time.
Lines.
Shapes.
Paths.
Weak points.
Connections.
Caelum gasped quietly.
Softly.
And the realm reacted.
The threads around him trembled—
fearfully.
reverently.
"…weaver…"
"…devourer…"
"…stitcher…"
"…unnatural…"
"…perfect…"
The light dimmed.
The world twisted.
And the Threadway collapsed.
Dorm Nine — Now
Caelum's body slammed back into reality.
He landed on one knee.
Breath steady.
Eyes sharp.
Hands trembling slightly—the only sign anything had happened.
The floor around him was cracked, glowing faintly before sealing shut as though it had never opened.
But Caelum had changed.
He could see threads now.
Thin lines running along the walls, the air, the floor, even the students sleeping in their rooms.
Lira's fear-thread pulsed weakly through the wall.
Marenne's curiosity-thread glowed bright and firm.
Jalen's anxiety-thread flickered like a dying candle.
The entire dorm was alive with connections and possibilities.
Caelum's fingers twitched.
"So this is Stage I…"
Thread Unfold — Stage I (Unlocked)
+ THREAD SENSE (True Form)
He can now see:
• emotional threads
• memory threads
• pain threads
• fear threads
• lies in real time
• the weak points in all living and nonliving things
+ THREAD TOUCH (Primitive)
A single touch can:
• disrupt a person's emotional balance
• force fear
• calm minds
• silence thoughts
• break minor sigil stability
+ THREAD FEED (Restricted)
Absorbs:
• fragments of memory
• tiny pieces of corrupted essence
• the "echo" of anomalous entities
+ THREAD SHROUD (Passive)
Hides his presence.
Makes instructors uneasy.
Makes detection sigils blind to him.
+ ENTITY ATTENTION (Consequential)
Something ancient has noticed him.
Caelum inhaled slowly.
The dorm was quiet again.
Until—
KNOCK. KNOCK.
Someone at his door.
Caelum rose and opened it.
Mistress Halien stood there.
Hair disheveled.
Breathing harsh.
Eyes wide with something between terror and awe.
"Caelum," she whispered.
"Did something… happen tonight?"
He considered lying.
But she would sense it.
So instead he said:
"Yes."
She swallowed.
"Are you… stable?"
"For now."
She exhaled shakily and stepped closer.
"Caelum… something moved under the academy tonight. Something the Dominion Council sealed centuries ago."
Her voice trembled.
"And whatever it is… it reacted to you."
Caelum looked past her into the dim hallway.
Threads drifted through the air like dust motes.
One thread—thin and black—twisted along the ceiling like a curious serpent.
"I know," he murmured.
"Because I heard it."
Mistress Halien flinched.
"What did it say?"
Caelum's expression didn't change.
"It welcomed me."