Kael awoke beneath the sky he did not recognize.
It sparkled with silver and purple threads, as if some fine hand had stitched them across an endless canopy. The stars shifted—not in some celestial sweep, but in intent. As if they watched him.
He fought to sit. The world around him felt odd yet welcoming. Trees grew crystalline leaves that rustled in windless quiet. Flowers opened in impossible shape, humming silent song.
Elira knelt beside him, a gentle touch on his shoulder.
"Where are we?" he growled, his voice thick with sleep and forgetfulness.
She smiled. "A place between. The Loom hasn't settled yet—it's still choosing its shape."
Kael furrowed his brow. "Loom?
Rei's voice echoed behind, bitter as ever. "You recreated the basis of life, Kael. Not bad for a man who can't remember breakfast."
Kael blinked. "I don't even remember myself."
