Chapter 5: The Loom of Undoing

Lyria’s breath came in shallow gasps. The Guardian’s words echoed in her mind, their weight pressing down on her like a stone.

If the thread is not unmade, your love will destroy you both.

Her gaze flickered to the golden thread floating between them, pulsing faintly as if it were alive. This was the thread she had woven—the one that had bound her to Kael, altering his fate, unraveling the destiny that had been sealed since his birth.

And now, the kingdom itself was at risk because of it.

Kael’s expression was unreadable, but she could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers flexed at his sides. He had spent his entire life untouched by emotion, and now—now he was standing here, staring at a truth neither of them could escape.

Lyria forced herself to meet the Guardian’s gaze. “How do I undo it?”

The Guardian extended a hand toward the thread, their fingers hovering just above it. “You must return to the loom,” they said. “And you must unweave what you have created.”

Lyria swallowed hard. “And if I fail?”

The Guardian’s glowing eyes darkened. “Then the curse will not only remain—it will evolve into something far worse. Love will not just destroy you. It will consume the kingdom.”

A chill ran down Lyria’s spine.

Kael’s voice cut through the silence, low and sharp. “Then we don’t fail.”

Lyria turned to him, startled by the certainty in his voice.

For a man who had never known love, who had never been touched by longing, there was something ferocious in his resolve. He wasn’t afraid.

He was ready to fight fate itself.

The Guardian studied them both, then nodded. “You must go now.”

Before either of them could respond, the golden thread pulsed once more—then vanished into the air, leaving behind a faint shimmer of light.

The Guardian’s form flickered, the starlit patterns of their cloak shifting like constellations in motion. “You are running out of time.” Their voice was softer now, almost… regretful. “The loom awaits.”

Then, just as suddenly as they had appeared, the Guardian vanished into the shadows.

The room fell into an eerie silence.

Lyria exhaled, her pulse hammering against her ribs. “I have to get back to the tailor’s shop.”

Kael nodded once. “Then let’s go.”

The Royal Tailor’s Shop

The streets of the palace grounds were eerily quiet as they made their way toward the tailor’s shop. The stars overhead were unusually dim, and the wind carried a strange hum through the air—almost as if the very fabric of reality was fraying at the edges.

Lyria had never felt this kind of unease before. It was as if the world knew something was wrong.

Kael walked beside her, his pace steady, his expression unreadable. He hadn’t spoken since they left her quarters, but she could feel the weight of his presence, the tension that coiled beneath his silence.

Finally, as they neared the shop, she risked a glance at him. “You don’t have to come with me.”

Kael’s silver eyes met hers, unreadable. “Yes, I do.”

There was no hesitation in his voice. No doubt.

Lyria swallowed and nodded, pushing open the door to the tailor’s shop.

The moment she stepped inside, a shiver ran down her spine.

The loom was waiting.

It stood at the back of the shop, still covered with the silk drape, but the air around it was charged, humming with energy. The same golden threads she had woven before now glowed faintly beneath the fabric, pulsing like a heartbeat.

Kael closed the door behind them, his gaze locked on the loom. “What now?”

Lyria hesitated before stepping forward.

Her fingers trembled as she pulled back the silk covering.

The loom looked the same as before—dark mahogany, inlaid with shifting constellations, its golden threads shimmering with a quiet, otherworldly light.

But something was different.

The pattern she had woven was still there, glowing faintly in the threads. And as she looked closer, she saw it—the strand that had bound her to Kael, woven through the fabric of fate like a golden chain.

Her breath hitched.

This was what she had done.

She had stitched her destiny to his. She had rewritten the stars.

And now, she had to undo it.

Kael stepped beside her, his presence a steady force at her side. “Tell me what to do.”

Lyria’s hands clenched. “I have to unweave the thread.”

She reached for the golden strand, her fingers brushing against the glowing fibers—

A sharp, blinding pain shot through her.

She gasped, stumbling back, her vision flashing white.

Kael caught her before she hit the ground. “Lyria!”

Her chest heaved, her pulse racing. The pain faded, but the lingering warmth of the magic pulsed beneath her skin. She looked up at Kael, her eyes wide. “It won’t let me.”

Kael frowned, his grip tightening around her arm. “Then we force it.”

Lyria shook her head. “It’s not that simple.” She turned back to the loom, breathing hard. “The threads are alive. They resist change.”

Kael exhaled sharply. “Then what do we do?”

Lyria hesitated. “I don’t know.”

The loom pulsed again, and this time, the golden thread twisted, curling around itself like a snare.

Something was wrong.

The pattern was changing.

Kael saw it too. “What’s happening?”

Lyria’s heart pounded. “I don’t—”

The loom shuddered.

And then, the golden thread split in two.

Lyria gasped.