The scream never left his throat.
Cael jolted upright in bed, chest heaving, sweat clinging to his back. He gasped, eyes wide, heart hammering as if he'd just outrun death itself.
But the room was quiet. Moonlight filtered through the high dorm window, silver and still. The walls were familiar—his books, his sword on the stand, the folded academy uniform. Everything in place.
And yet… something felt wrong.
He pressed a hand against his chest. His heart was racing like prey sensing a predator.
What… what was that dream?
He couldn't remember. The images had already vanished, devoured by the waking world. But the feeling lingered.
Then the system flickered to life without prompt.
That had never happened before.
Lines of static shimmered, symbols glitching across the air like shattered glass reforming. The interface glowed red—darker than usual, and colder.
WARNING: A Black Thread has entered your Thread Field.
Cael's breath caught.
"What?" he whispered.
He reached out to stabilize the screen, but the message blinked again, harsher this time, as if impatient.
TYPE: Anomaly.
CLASSIFICATION: Black Thread – Fate Unwritten.
THREAT LEVEL: Unknown.
Then silence. No further explanation. No guidance.
"Black Thread?" Cael muttered, eyes narrowing.
He'd seen thousands of threads by now—blue for allies, gold for key figures, red for enemies, grey for neutrals.
But never black.
"Is it… a person?"
Query denied.
System unable to verify source.
This thread does not belong.
Cael stared at the screen, chills crawling up his spine.
It wasn't a warning.
It was a confession. Even the system didn't know what this was.
Something had entered his field of fate—something not written.
And for the first time since he'd begun rewriting, he felt watched. Not by a person.
But by the tapestry itself.
By the thing behind the curtain.
By Fate itself.
Later that night
The courtyard was quiet beneath the moonlight, the world steeped in silver and shadow.
Cael stood still, eyes scanning the open space below from the balcony. Dozens of thin, glowing lines floated through the air—students sleeping, instructors pacing, guards on night patrol.
All threads visible. All accounted for.
Except one.
There.
A flicker.
A line that pulsed black—and then blinked out.
Cael leaned forward sharply. The thread had momentarily attached to a figure cloaked in academy robes… then vanished.
Glitched out of existence.
Everyone else's threads shimmered like silk in the night air. But this one? It broke the rules. It didn't shimmer—it shivered. And then it disappeared, leaving only—
A glimpse of fabric. A dark cloak. A figure turning the corner near the library gardens.
Too fast. Too quiet.
He reached into the system.
"Trace that thread."
ACCESS DENIED. THREAD SOURCE UNKNOWN.
UNABLE TO TRACE ACROSS DIVIDE.
He stared at the flickering message.
"Divide? What divide?"
The words pulsed once, then faded.
The cold night seemed to press against the courtyard walls, heavier now. More aware.
Cael stepped back into shadow, his hands cold at his sides.
His thoughts spiraled.
"Did I cause this?"
The rewrites played back in his mind, one by one like falling dominos:
Lira, saved from nothing.Seris, stripped of affection.Leon, set adrift from the ones meant to anchor him.
Every time he used the system, he'd carved something away.
He had justified it all.
"Necessary. Strategic. Clean."
"But what if it wasn't just the system that had noticed?"
'What if something else had felt the disturbance?"
"The dream. The message. The vanished thread."
His pulse thudded, slow and tense.
For the first time in days, he considered a terrifying idea:
"Maybe I've gone too far."
He stood in the dark, unmoving, the scent of candle smoke still faint on his sleeves.
The thought lingered:
"I could stop."
Cut back. Use the system only when needed. Play it safe.
Fade into the flow of fate again.
Just let things unfold.
He could survive that way. Maybe not win, but survive.
But—
Then what was the point of any of this?
The guilt he could no longer feel. The love he'd sacrificed. The memories erased from his soul.
He looked down at his hands. They didn't shake.
He wasn't afraid. Not anymore.
Just angry.
"I've come too far to slow down."
Let the shadows watch.
He would stare back.
The system interface hovered silently above his palm, lines of faint light rippling like breath in cold air.
Cael narrowed his eyes.
"Who was that?" he asked. "The black thread. The cloaked figure."
No answer.
He didn't blink.
"Don't play coy. You're the one tracking threads—I know you saw it."
The system pulsed once. Then:
You are not the only hand moving threads.Beware the Weaver's Eye.
Cael's stomach tensed.
That phrase—it wasn't part of any tutorial.
He hadn't seen it mentioned anywhere in the interface.
"Weaver's Eye?" he repeated, voice lower. "What the hell is that?"
The system flickered, static bleeding at the edges of its text.
Then, without warning:
QUERY LOCKED.[REDACTED BY HIGHER AUTHORITY]Further access requires Fate Tier 4 clearance.
The interface shut down with a sharp blink—final, absolute.
Cael stood there in silence.
His reflection watched him in the window glass—tired, sharp-eyed, and now…
Unsettled.
The night deepened.
When he finally returned to his dorm, the candles had burned low. Shadows moved lazily across the ceiling.
He closed the door behind him, twisting the lock with a soft click.
And then—
A soft whisper of paper against wood.
Something slid under the door.
He turned slowly, eyes narrowing.
A note.
Plain. Blank.
He picked it up, heart steady—until he tilted it toward the candlelight.
And words flared up across the page, like ink awakening from sleep.
Rewrite once more, and I'll rewrite you.
No signature. No seal.
Just that single line—sharp as a dagger pressed to the throat.
Cael stared at it for a long moment.
No sound. No system alert. No footsteps in the hall.
Only silence.
And for the first time since rebirth…
"I feel fear again."