The Weaver's threads danced between his fingers, living silk against the clearing's hush. Naia's group stalled, caught between choices—the Fracture's scream a metronome counting down. Rain-soaked earth seemed to hold its breath.
"The cost," Naia repeated, voice steady despite the churn inside. "What does it cost to weave a new path?"
The Weaver's starlit eyes didn't blink. "A memory, Naia Ebere. One you value. Sever the Fracture, and Azuji forgets… the Dweller, the Oriri, the danger. Peace, but blindness."
Kofi's jaw tightened. "And if we weave?"
"Then Azuji remembers… and sees. The Oriri fall, but shadows shift. You'll carry the Fracture's weight… forever."
Tyra frowned, tapping a root impatiently. "What's the 'memory' we'd lose?"
The Weaver's gaze drifted to Kofi. "A bond. One of you will forget… a truth, a face, a promise. The Fracture demands asymmetry."
Naia's pulse stitched unevenly. "No. There's another way."
"There isn't," the Weaver said, threads snapping taut. "Choose: *stability or sight*. The loom won't wait."
Kofi turned, eyes calm but urgent. "Naia, if we forget… it repeats. The Oriri win."
Tyra nodded, jaw set. "We can't erase ourselves. We weave."
Naia's _ukazi_ flared, as if aligning with her heartbeat. "We trust the thread. We weave."
The Weaver's smile etched deeper. "Then pay the price. *Kofi Okoye will forget you.*"
A silence like a dropped stone. Kofi's face froze, confusion etched. "What… what does that mean?"
Naia's throat closed, but she grasped his hands. "It's okay. I'll remember. We'll find a way."
The Weaver raised a palm. "The cost is immediate. Kofi, in three breaths, you'll forget Naia Ebere. The Fracture will stabilize… but the thread will unravel elsewhere."
Kofi's eyes searched hers, warmth still flickering. "Naia… what's happening?"
Naia forced a smile, tears threatening. "It's okay. Trust me."
*One.* The Weaver's threads tightened.
*Two.* Kofi's gaze drifted, fogging.
*Three.* He blinked, turned to Tyra. "What were we deciding?"
Tyra's face crumbled, but she played along. "The… the path forward. We need to move."
Naia stepped back, a void opening. Kofi didn't recognize her. No flicker. No spark.
The Fracture's scream faded to a hum. The clearing brightened, as if reality realigned. The Weaver nodded, vanishing into the pattern he'd woven.
Ayo materialized, flanked by Oriri agents, her form twisted in rage. "You… chose."
Naia raised her hands, _ukazi_ surging—a shield, not a weapon. "The Fracture's stable. Leave Azuji."
Ayo's form dissipated, snarling. "This isn't over. *You'll unravel.*"
The Oriri retreated. The clearing stilled, except for Tyra's uneven breaths.
Kofi turned, curious. "Hey, who are you?" he asked Naia, voice polite but distant.
Naia's smile shattered, then rebuilt. "I'm… a friend. Let's go."
Tyra grabbed her arm, whispering, "We need a plan. He doesn't remember _anything_."
Naia nodded, tucking pain away. "We'll get him back. Find the Threadweaver. There's a way to undo this."
As they navigated _Erebo Oloko_, night thickened. Naia's pendant pulsed—a reminder: balance came with scars.
"We need Adebayo," Tyra said, voice low. "If anyone can unravel this, he can."
Naia's jaw set. "First, we protect Azuji. Then… I get Kofi back."
A rustle echoed—a figure cloaked in leaves, watching from shadows. The Threadweaver, her voice a breeze.
"Your thread's tangled, Naia. The cost was just the beginning. The Oriri aren't defeated… they're adapting."
Naia's eyes narrowed. "Tell me how to undo it."
The Threadweaver's form blurred. "The Weaver doesn't undo. He balances. Find the *echo of memory*—where lost threads hide. But be warned… the price grows."
The forest swallowed her. Naia turned to Tyra, resolve hardening.
"Echo of memory. Sounds like a story. Let's write it."
Kofi walked beside them, oblivious, whisting a tune Naia didn't recognize. Her chest ached, but she matched his pace.
"We're not done, Kofi," she whispered, unseen. "I remember."
Azuji's lights twinkled ahead, fragile. The Fracture hummed, steady… for now.
Tyra leaned close. "What if… what if he never remembers?"
Naia's fingers brushed the crystal pendant, its beat a promise. "He will. I'll weave that thread."
The night deepened, shadows shifting. Naia knew: balance wasn't an end—it was leverage. And she'd use every thread to get Kofi back.
The loom waited. The game isn't close to over.