Ashthorne screamed again.
A deep, resonant groan—stone grinding, sigils cracking, corridors twisting in pain. Dust rained from the ceiling. Lanterns shattered on impact, their flames pulling sideways as if gravity had forgotten its job.
Caelum reached the top of the lower stairwell in three silent steps.
The moment he emerged into the main hall—
He smelled blood.
And reality.
Tearing.
The East Wing was collapsing.
Rifts crawled along the walls like glowing fractures in glass—thin, jagged wounds filled with swirling light and shadow. The air rippled around them, warping as if heated, but cold enough to bite bone.
Students fled in panic.
Instructors barked orders.
Sigils flared in desperate attempts to hold back the anomaly.
Caelum stood still.
Watching.
Reading.
Artheon stumbled up behind him, clutching his side. "By the Silent Ones… this—this is a full tear! Not a crack—an actual breach!"
Caelum said nothing.
He already saw it.
A massive rupture split the East Wing corridor into two jagged halves—
each piece floating slightly displaced, like pieces of a shattered thread-woven puzzle.
Through it, he saw glimmers of something else—
A hallway that wasn't Ashthorne.
A forest of bone-white trees.
A shifting sky made of threads.
A whispering void.
"…bearer…"
It was calling from inside the tear.
Artheon grabbed Caelum's shoulder.
"Don't even think about it," he hissed. "This is not the same as the seal chamber. This is wild. Uncontained. You step into that—your soul might unravel."
Caelum brushed his hand off calmly.
"My soul is already partially unraveled."
Artheon froze.
Before he could argue, a scream cut through the roar of collapsing stone.
Not distant.
Not random.
A scream Caelum recognized.
"CAELUM—!"
Lira.
His eyes snapped toward the voice instantly.
Thread-Sense flared.
He saw her—
Far ahead, near the epicenter of the tear—
Lira stood trembling on a collapsing staircase, gripping a handrail that bent like melted wax. The tear flickered inches from her—hungry, swirling tendrils reaching toward her as if tasting fear.
Her heartbeat-thread was thrashing.
Her stability-thread was tearing.
She was seconds from being swallowed.
Marenne clung to a pillar several yards behind her, shouting Lira's name helplessly, unable to get close without being torn apart.
Jalen was sobbing.
"C-Caelum—GO—GO—PLEASE GO—!"
Caelum didn't run.
He stepped.
One moment he was at the far end of the hall.
The next—
He stood ten feet from Lira.
Because the world parted for him.
The Tear Reacts
As Caelum approached, the anomaly pulsed violently.
Tendrils of shimmering threadlight swirled toward him—
Not to attack.
To reach.
To greet.
To claim.
"…bearer…"
The rift's voice vibrated against his bones like music.
Lira clung to the melting railing, tears streaming down her face.
"Caelum—don't—don't come closer—you'll fall—please—"
He walked forward anyway.
The floor cracked under his feet.
A chunk of tiles fell into the swirling void.
Lira screamed.
"STOP—YOU'LL—YOU'LL—"
He stopped in front of her.
She stared at him with a mixture of terror and relief so intense it hurt to look at.
Her voice broke.
"Why… why did you come? You—you shouldn't be near this…"
He gave her a small, soft smile.
Something gentle.
Rare.
Almost warm.
"I told you," he said quietly, "I don't break."
Her lower lip trembled.
"You're going to die."
"No," Caelum corrected, "I'm going to save you."
The tear roared at those words—
a spiral of luminous tendrils lunging violently toward him.
Artheon shouted from behind:
"VEY-LOR—BACK AWAY—THE RIFT IS REACTING TO YOU—IT'LL SWALLOW YOU WHOLE—!"
Caelum raised a hand.
Thread-Sense surged.
Every tendril froze inches from his skin, twisting in midair like torn ribbons held by an invisible puppeteer.
Lira gasped.
Marenne covered her mouth.
Jalen's knees buckled.
Artheon stumbled back in disbelief.
"It's… obeying you…"
No.
It wasn't obedience.
It was recognition.
Caelum whispered:
"Stay."
The rift pulsed softly.
Like a giant animal breathing in his palm.
He extended his other hand toward Lira.
"Take my hand."
She hesitated only a moment.
Then she grabbed it.
The anomaly shrieked—
a sharp, furious screech—
and every tendril lunged at Caelum at once.
He didn't move.
He simply turned his head slightly.
And the tendrils stopped.
All of them.
Frozen in place.
Lira stared at him, breath shaking.
"C-Caelum… what are you…?"
His eyes glowed faint-white.
Not bright.
Not blinding.
Just subtly wrong.
"I'm someone who won't let you fall."
He pulled her away from the collapsing staircase.
The anomaly tried to pull her back—
tried to taste her fear-thread—
tried to swallow her—
But Caelum wrapped one arm around her waist and lifted her away effortlessly.
The tear roared.
Reality cracked.
But Caelum simply walked backward—
like he commanded the air itself.
The rift tendrils thrashed violently…
…and then bent around him.
Like a tide breaking around a rock.
He brought Lira safely behind the broken pillar where Marenne and Jalen waited.
Lira collapsed against Marenne, trembling uncontrollably.
"Caelum… Caelum he… the rift… it… it listened to him…"
Marenne stared at Caelum with the expression of someone witnessing a god walk past.
Artheon stepped up beside Caelum, eyes wide.
"What did you just do?"
Caelum looked at the anomaly.
"It tried to pull her into a conceptual space. I told it not to."
"You TOLD it—?!"
"Yes."
The rift pulsed again.
Faster now.
Angrier.
As if denied its rightful prey.
Tendrils lashed outward, snapping through the air like blades—
straight toward Caelum.
Artheon tensed.
"CAELUM—!"
Caelum raised his hand.
Just a gesture.
A quiet command.
The tendrils stopped.
Every single one.
Frozen mid-attack.
Then—
They slowly curled backward.
Retreating.
The rift dimmed.
Shrinking.
As if sulking.
As if obedient.
Artheon whispered:
"…you didn't just stabilize it… you dominated it."
Caelum stepped toward the rift again.
The tendrils quivered.
Awaiting instruction.
He spoke quietly.
"Close."
The rift thrashed violently in defiance—
but the order held.
Threads recoiled.
Edges folded inward.
Light dimmed.
The tear shrank—
slowly
painfully
unwillingly—
until it snapped shut with a final shudder, leaving only a scorch mark on the stone.
Silence fell.
Ashthorne trembled once more—
but this time in relief.
Artheon stared at Caelum, trembling.
"You… you stabilized a reality tear."
Caelum didn't respond.
He was watching Lira.
She lifted her head slowly.
Her eyes were red.
Fear.
Shock.
Awe.
Too many emotions tangled together.
She whispered:
"…Caelum… what are you?"
For the first time since he reincarnated—
Caelum didn't hide the truth.
He walked toward her.
Stopped inches away.
Threads curled gently around him in the air.
His voice was quiet.
Unshaken.
And devastating.
"I am becoming the thing this academy was built to contain."
Lira trembled.
Marenne's breath caught.
Jalen fainted.
Artheon whispered, horrified:
"The Threadbearer…"
And deep beneath the academy—
in the sealed cavern—
the ancient corpse whispered:
"…soon…"