The Broker fell to his knees, his light flickering like a dying star. "The ancient scrolls of the Shadow Weavers speak of a child born from the ashes of a consumed world, bearing two burning hearts and the power to weave the void. hey call him e Son of Prophecy
Fang Yuan remained silent, his binary hearts thrumming in a dark, synchronized rhythm. He didn't correct the creature. To the world, the "Legendary Weaver" was a myth of the past, a ghost of an era long deleted. If these rebels wanted a savior, he would give them one—but a savior who demanded a price in blood.
"The Prophecy," Yuan said, his voice cold and clinical. "It says the child will break the Five Pillars. It says the stars will bow. Is that why you hide in the dark, waiting for a ghost to lead you?"
"We do not just wait!" the Broker hissed, a spark of fanatical zeal in his eyes. "The Shadow Weavers are active in the lower levels of Terminus. We undermine the Council's trade, we steal their Star-Cores, and we prepare for the Great Unraveling. If you are truly the Son... the Sect Leaders must know."
Yuan looked down at the Broker, his obsidian face reflecting no emotion. He knew that "Prophecies" were often just long-term calculations made by ancient masters—perhaps even his own past self. If he was the "Son," then he was the weapon this sect had been whetting for centuries.
"Take me to them," Yuan commanded. "Take me to your 'Shadow Weavers.' I want to see if the teeth of this rebellion are sharp enough to bite the throat of the Council."