The Whisper of Threads

Lyra always loved the attic. Its wooden beams, weathered by time, framed the small space like the ribs of an ancient beast, sheltering forgotten treasures beneath its vaulted ceiling. Light from a round window filtered through the dust, creating sunlit ribbons that danced in the still air. She often came here when she wanted to think—or to escape.

On her eighteenth birthday, Lyra’s grandmother, Evelyne, had insisted on hosting a small gathering. Villagers had come with well-worn smiles, offering simple gifts and congratulations. But Lyra had slipped away after the cake was served, leaving the hum of conversation behind for the quiet solace of the attic.

As she climbed the creaking stairs, her heart felt heavy with questions she couldn’t voice. Why was Evelyne so guarded about their family’s past? Why did they seem set apart from the rest of the village, an invisible barrier between them and everyone else?

The attic seemed to welcome her as she entered, its familiar smells and sights wrapping around her like a favorite cloak. She wandered aimlessly, trailing her fingers across dusty surfaces. Then, in the farthest corner, something caught her eye.

It was a trunk, partially hidden beneath a tattered quilt. Lyra frowned. She didn’t remember seeing it before. Unlike the other forgotten relics, this trunk gleamed as though freshly polished. Its brass latch, shaped like a crescent moon, shone faintly in the dim light.

Her fingers hovered over it. Evelyne’s warnings echoed in her mind: “The attic is full of things best left alone.” But Lyra’s curiosity was like a hunger she couldn’t ignore. The latch gave way with a soft click as she pressed it, the lid creaking open.

Inside lay a loom.

It wasn’t large, but it was beautiful. Its frame seemed to shimmer faintly, carved with swirling patterns that shifted subtly under her gaze. Threads of gold, silver, indigo, and emerald stretched taut across it, glowing faintly as though lit from within.

Lyra knelt before it, her breath caught in her throat. Her fingers tingled as she reached out, brushing a golden thread.

The world shifted.

She gasped as her mind filled with flashes of color and sound—faces, voices, emotions, and moments she couldn’t comprehend. A mother’s laughter, a child’s tears, a young man’s shout of triumph. Joy, sorrow, anger, hope. It was as if she had been pulled into the lives of strangers, their stories rushing through her like a river.

“Lyra!”

Her grandmother’s voice broke through the storm, yanking Lyra back into the attic. She looked up to see Evelyne standing in the doorway, her face pale and her eyes wide with something Lyra had never seen before: fear.

“What have you done?” Evelyne whispered, stepping closer.

Lyra blinked, disoriented. “I... I found this. I touched it. What is it?”

Evelyne’s voice trembled as she sank to her knees. “It’s a loom of fate,” she said. “And now, it’s bound to you.”

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***