The ruins stretched endlessly under the faded sky, a graveyard of a world that had forgotten itself. Theo walked slowly, boots crunching against broken glass and crumbled concrete. Every step stirred up dust, swirling like faint ghosts in the cold air.
"Careful," Nova whispered from behind him, her sharp eyes scanning the wreckage. "This place feels... wrong."
Theo nodded but said nothing. He could feel it too — the tension woven into the very ground, the barely-there tugging of unseen threads. The Origin Core inside him thrummed quietly, responding to the disturbance.
They reached the remains of what once might have been a market square. Half-toppled statues stood like forgotten gods. Shattered tiles hinted at colors long faded away. In the center, a gaping hole yawned open, leading into darkness below.
"This is it," Theo murmured. His voice barely rose above the wind. "The point where the threads began to fray."
Nova stepped closer, wrapping her coat tighter around her slender frame. "Do you really think... we can fix this?"
He didn't answer immediately. His hand brushed the small, pulsating crystal embedded in his chest — invisible to others, but ever-present to him. The Origin Core whispered things sometimes. Half-formed warnings. Echoes of possibilities.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But if we don't try, this world collapses. Same as before."
A soft, sad smile touched Nova's lips. "You talk like you've seen it happen."
"I have," he said simply.
She didn't press him, though the questions danced in her gaze. Instead, she pulled a slim dagger from her belt, the metal catching the dying light. She took a stance by the hole's edge, ready for anything.
Theo knelt, touching the ground. His fingers brushed against a faint shimmer in the dust — a broken thread. It flickered like a dying ember.
He focused.
The world dulled around him, sounds and colors draining into grayness. In that stillness, Theo could see them: the frayed strands of reality. Most were severed completely, but a few still clung to life, twisting and writhing like wounded animals.
He breathed out slowly, weaving the smallest threads back together. It was delicate work — a heartbeat too much pressure and they would snap forever.
Behind him, Nova kept watch, one hand lightly on his shoulder to ground him. Her touch was cool, steadying.
A vibration traveled through the air, deep and low, like a distant drumbeat.
Something was coming.
Theo tightened his weave, the threads responding sluggishly, like they didn't trust him yet. Sweat beaded at his brow despite the chill.
"Faster, Theo," Nova hissed. "We have company."
Out of the shadows, hulking figures emerged — not fully human anymore. Twisted by broken fates, their eyes burned with sickly light, and their mouths gaped open in silent screams.
Theo gritted his teeth. One last pull — a single knot of threads came together, flickering brightly — and the market around them seemed to breathe. Color returned in a pulse, pushing back the creeping corruption.
He staggered to his feet just as the nearest creature lunged.
Nova moved faster than thought, her blade flashing. The creature's head snapped back, dark ichor spraying the ground.
"Go!" she shouted. "We can't fight them all!"
Theo didn't argue. They sprinted back the way they came, weaving through shattered alleys and broken homes. Behind them, the creatures howled in fury, their rotting feet pounding after them.
As they ran, Theo risked one glance back — and saw, just for a moment, the threads behind them knitting themselves slowly, painfully back into the world.
Maybe, just maybe, it was working.