At Orahm's inner sanctum, the loom-hall, the rain of mirror shards still whispered outside the shattered plaza when Shin's party reached the staircase hidden beneath the titan's pedestal. The steps spiraled downward through translucent quartz, every tread thrumming with faint lunar resonance. No dust marred the descent; the corridor had slept untouched since Orahm fell silent.
Their crests glimmered like lanterns in the gloom. Laverna's foxfire flickered amber along the walls, Zera's Clarent shed sapphire sparks, and Alexandra's healing hymn reverberated softly—a gentle pulse that knit lingering aches from the titan battle.
Shin led, orb in hand. Each floor they passed felt warmer, as if they neared some beating heart. On the fourth landing, the stairwell opened into a vast chamber whose ceiling vaulted so high it merged with night‑sky darkness. At its center waited a colossal loom wrought of moon‑steel and living starlight.
Silken threads—pure radiant filaments no thicker than spider silk—spanned the loom's wooden frame, weaving patterns that shifted with the observers' breath. Some strands shone gold, others pale silver, a few deep crimson. Between them hovered ghostly scrolls that unrolled, then rewound, recording events in real time.
Tessara gasped. "The Weaving Moon… legend said Orahm's oracle scribed fate upon moving silk."
Maika slowed, one hand to her chest. "It feels as though it's watching."
Shin took one step closer. The orb pulsed, and a ripple coursed through the loom. Threads rearranged, scrolls re‑spooled, until a single tapestry surged from the center: a branching diagram of names and dates in luminous glyphs.
The Tails of Light
Arashi Soma → Hoshiko Soma → Murasabe Soma → branch severed…
A wide gap split the lower bough—blank luminous space where a name should be. Then a lone rune ignited: Shin Soma. The glyph flared brighter than any other, followed by six smaller runes haloing it at equidistant points.
Alexandra's breath hitched. "Six satellites… servants tethered to the Fox‑Heir."
Laverna unconsciously touched the crest on her abdomen. Zera's fingers tightened around Clarent. Maika, Tessara, and Alexandra all felt the same tug—a recognition that the loom acknowledged their bond.
But only five sigils glowed; a sixth remained dim, shadowed.
"Another servant yet to join," Zera murmured.
Shin studied the tapestry. "Or a path not taken."
Alexandra approached, her regal poise returning despite her travel‑worn armor. She traced floating script that spiraled beneath Shin's rune. She reads:
When the Fox‑Heir claims the Ninth Tail,
Moon shall marry Sun, and Dawn will rise,
Threads severed become whole,
And worlds sundered knit anew.
"The Ninth Tail…" Alexandra whispered. "Old Orahmian prophecy spoke of eight ascendant spirits—yet here it predicts a ninth. Your soul is the catalyst, Shin."
Laverna frowned. "But he already has five of us. Does the ninth mean you, or something still slumbering?"
Tessara pressed her palm to the script. "Part of the verse is blurred—erasures by design." She turned to Shin. "Prophecy is choice in disguise. The loom shows possibility, not chains."
The loom's shuttle glided of its own accord, drawing threads from a glowing reservoir. Alexandra guided Shin's hand to the shuttle grip. "A sovereign's weave responds only to the rightful heir."
He hesitated. "What do I do?"
"Breathe. Think of the future you refuse to lose."
He closed his eyes, exhaling. Thoughts poured into the loom: Valdorne freed from Falzath, Laginaple restored, the eastern continent liberated from the grasp of the Hi Okami Renegades, and peace rippling across the land once torn by war. He saw the servant sisters laughing under open skies, their burdens lifted. The shuttle jerked, then danced, spinning a single silver‑white thread thicker than the rest.
When Shin let go, the thread coiled into his palm, cool as moonlit water yet humming with latent energy.
The chamber darkened abruptly. A rumble shook the floor. From recesses in the wall crawled obsidian serpents—sentinel constructs roused by the loom's activation. Their fangs dripped liquid crystal, tails tipped with barbs of lunar glass.
Shin glanced across his party. Positions, he whispered—not aloud, but through the crest network. Each servant heard him like a whisper in the mind.
They fanned out with silent choreography.
Maika blurred into flickers of sunfire, her twin kunai spiraling with radiant arcs. She danced through the shadows, her time dilation slowing enemy lunges just enough to carve them open mid-slither. "Left flank clear," she relayed through the crest.
Shin surged behind her, finishing off a wounded serpent with a precise crimson arc from Yoshimatsu. "Beautiful timing, Maika."
Zera met a trio of serpents head-on, Clarent clashing with their bladed tails. Sparks flew with each strike, her footwork like a royal duel—elegant yet brutal. One serpent snapped toward her neck—Shin intercepted mid-leap, his blade humming with ki. "Guard your flank."
"I had it," Zera replied with a smirk. "But thank you."
Tessara's illusions split the battlefield into a labyrinth. Serpents chased mirages, darting into dead ends. "Three entangled westward," she whispered.
Shin blinked into position behind one of the confused serpents, carving it apart with one flawless strike. "Your veil is perfect."
Alexandra's voice rose in clarity, harmonizing with the loom's glow. Her chants imbued the others with agility and protection. The hymn resonated through the walls, rupturing corrupted cores as she swept her lance in a wide, guiding arc. "Their fear reacts to truth," she said.
Laverna moved between constructs like a shadow reborn—her jamadhars slicing into joints, sparks of crimson and azure trailing her limbs. When two serpents coiled around her, Shin flared in from above, splitting both in a single crimson slash. "You good?"
She grinned, breathless. "More than."
Together, the party weaved through the onslaught with deadly grace, their bond not just of battle, but of faith. Shin moved as a fulcrum, bolstering and complementing each member's attack—never commanding, only enhancing.
Within moments, the serpents lay in shards. The loom glowed brighter, approving.
Shin tucked the silver thread into the orb. A gentle click sounded like a lock accepting its key.
"What now?" Laverna asked, wiping sweat from her brow.
Shin stared at the blank sixth sigil beside the others. "We keep weaving." He looked to each of them in turn. "Together."
They nodded, though unease lingered. Somewhere beyond Orahm, Falzath forces likely sensed the loom's activation. War would not pause.
But for a fleeting moment beneath vaulted crystal stars, the six stood bathed in silver light, hearts stitched with renewed hope.
Orahm's heart beat once more, and its prophecy scrolls wrote a future still their own to claim.