The fall was not a sensation of the body, but a slipping of awareness.
Thuria did not feel any weight pulling her downward, nor any wind rushing around her. Instead, she felt as though her perception itself was being drawn out of her, as if something was pulling her away from a reality she had once believed to be stable, casting her into another layer—deeper, harsher, and far less forgiving.
Then… stillness.
She opened her eyes slowly.
This was not the forest she knew, and the darkness was not empty. It was dense, almost tangible, as if it were a substance that could be seen but not touched. The air was heavy and stagnant, carrying a cold scent closer to rust than to earth.
She rose carefully, feeling the ground beneath her. It was solid, but not natural, as though it were made of a single, uniform surface, with no soil and no roots.
Quietly, she thought to herself, her voice trembling yet controlled, Where am I now…? Is this a continuation of what I saw, or have I crossed a boundary that cannot be undone?
No answer came.
Yet the silence was not empty.
She lifted her gaze and noticed that the trees were still there, but they were no longer trees in any familiar sense. Their trunks were smooth, stripped of bark, rising like dark pillars. Instead of branches, thin threads extended outward, hanging and swaying gently, as if breathing.
She took a step back and stared.
This is not a forest, she thought, a cold realization seeping into her like a slow chill. It is something pretending to be one.
At that moment, one of the threads moved.
It was not close, yet she felt it. She felt its movement not only in the space around her, but within herself.
She placed her hand over her wrist.
The mark was still there.
The faint line beneath her skin pulsed more clearly now, as though responding to what surrounded her, or to what she was approaching.
She closed her eyes briefly, then whispered inwardly, Is this a connection… or a summons?
Suddenly, the silence broke.
A quiet voice, yet unmistakable, emerged not from a single direction but from the space itself.
You are getting closer.
Her eyes snapped open. She turned quickly, but no one was there.
She stepped forward, her heart racing, yet she did not retreat.
Closer… to what? she wondered, a bitter edge creeping into her thoughts. And who is speaking to me… if not this place itself?
No direct answer came.
Instead, the ground changed.
Beneath her feet, fine lines began to appear. Thin threads surfaced, spreading slowly like a network awakening beneath her.
Then she saw them.
They had not appeared suddenly. They had been there all along—she simply had not seen them.
Slender shapes moved between the dark pillars. They did not walk but glided, as though they required no ground. Their limbs were uneven, stretching and contracting, their bodies pulled taut by threads that extended upward into something unseen.
She held her breath.
Are these… creatures? Or reflections of something else?
One of them approached.
It had no face, yet the place where a face should have been was disturbingly empty, as though the void itself were staring at her.
She stepped back and whispered inwardly, Don't come closer…
But it did not stop.
It halted directly before her.
In that instant, a sharp pain pierced her head.
Her vision shifted.
She no longer saw the creature as it appeared outwardly. She saw it from within.
Threads.
Dense, intertwined, moving inside it, wrapping around its hollow form, shaping it, then reshaping it again.
She gasped and dropped to her knees, clutching her head.
What is this…? Am I seeing it… or is it showing itself to me?
The vision vanished abruptly.
Everything returned as it was.
But the creature… was gone.
She lifted her head quickly, searching for it, but found only silence.
Yet she was not alone.
Thuria…
Her body froze.
This time, the voice was not unfamiliar.
It was her own.
She turned slowly, her eyes widening.
There, among the threads, stood a figure.
It looked like her.
But it was not her.
Its features were faded, like a reflection in a fractured mirror. Its body was bound by dense threads that pierced through its shoulders and arms, stretching upward into something unseen.
Thuria stepped forward despite the fear pulling her back.
Are you… me?
The figure did not respond, but it tilted its head slightly, as if trying to remember how to do so.
Then the voice came, weak and fragmented.
I am… what you will become.
She recoiled, her heart pounding violently.
Impossible… this isn't real… this is not me.
But the voice returned, steadier now.
You are seeing now. And those who see… are bound.
She placed a hand over her chest, her breathing uneven.
And who binds us? Who is doing this?
A brief silence… then:
The one behind the thread.
At that moment, everything trembled.
The threads around her quivered, the ground shuddered, as if the very name had awakened something dormant.
The figure vanished.
Silence returned.
But this time… it was not reassuring.
Thuria stood slowly, staring into the emptiness before her. Then she whispered, her voice low yet firm,
If this is the fate… I will not let it be completed.
She lifted her head, her eyes searching through the darkness.
I will understand… no matter the cost.
And deep within the darkness… something responded.
If" you would defy it… even knowing it has already answered… leave a Power Stone."