The world beyond the Spire's door was different.
Kade expected daylight. Instead, he was greeted by an ashen twilight sky, suspended in silence. The stars above were frozen mid-flicker—suspended, paused, or perhaps indecisive. The land itself was strange. Broken bridges floated in the air, and staircases led to nowhere.
"This… this isn't our city," Kade murmured.
"No," Caela said. "This is the Verge."
"The what now?"
She knelt, drawing a symbol in the air. A ripple passed through the space around her, like the world had just exhaled.
"The Verge is a threshold between real timelines and fractured ones," she explained. "It's where forgotten paths go. Collapsed possibilities. Events that could have happened."
Aurelle frowned. "So we're in a graveyard of timelines."
"Exactly."
The group stepped onto a shifting platform of stone and light. It floated down slowly, past the hollow shells of cities that never existed. One tower had no roof. Another was upside down. In the distance, a sun tried to rise, but froze halfway.
Kade shivered. "How do we even navigate this?"
"Like this," Caela replied, tapping the shard at her chest.
Lines of light spidered out across the ground, creating a path.
Lira peered over the edge. "One wrong step and we fall into… what, broken time?"
"Not even time," Caela whispered. "We'd fall into unbeing."
They followed the path in tense silence, boots echoing on glass-like surfaces. Eventually, the road led them to an iron gate twisted in the shape of a closed eye. Behind it, a stairway spiraled downward, glowing faintly.
"The Forge lies beneath," Caela said.
Kade reached for the gate—and it opened with a whisper.
They descended.
With every step, the temperature dropped. The scent of rust and forgotten fire filled the air. When they reached the bottom, they stood in a chamber so vast it might have touched the earth's core—if this world obeyed normal rules.
An ancient forge stood at its center, shaped like a coiled serpent, its jaws forming the furnace.
"This," Caela whispered, "is where the Threads were first woven. Where the first blades were hammered into the timelines. Only here can we shape a Veilpiercer."
Kade approached it slowly. "You said we needed a weapon that could kill a Threadborn. Why?"
Caela hesitated.
Then: "Because one of them is coming for us. A Harrower."
Lira's expression darkened. "Those are myths."
"They're real," Caela said. "Threadborn who fed on collapsed timelines. Who grew powerful by absorbing echoes of themselves."
"And they want the shard?" Kade asked.
"They want you," Caela said, quietly. "You're a living contradiction. A timeline that wasn't meant to be. That makes you a threat… or a weapon."
Before Kade could reply, the Forge lit.
A figure emerged from the flames.
An old man—half-mechanical, with wires in place of veins and cogs turning in his skull. His eyes were black with molten cores.
"Who seeks to bend the forgotten flame?" he asked, voice deep and metallic.
Caela stepped forward. "I am Caela of the Last Thread. I invoke the right of Ashen Fire."
The old man tilted his head. "And what payment do you offer for fire that remembers?"
"My memory," she said simply. "A year of it."
Kade turned to her. "What?!"
The forgemaster nodded. "Accepted."
A flame leapt from the furnace and into Caela's chest. Her eyes fluttered. Her knees buckled. Kade caught her.
"What did you just give up?" he asked.
She blinked, dazed. "I… don't know. I don't remember."
The forgemaster turned to Kade. "Step forward. Your blade awaits."
"I've never forged anything," Kade said.
"You don't forge it," the forgemaster said. "You remember it."
Kade stepped to the anvil.
The shard on Caela's chest detached and floated to the forge, melting into light. Images flashed in Kade's mind—cities he never saw, people he never met. His heart ached.
He gritted his teeth.
"I… I remember pain."
The light thickened into metal.
"I remember choice."
A hilt formed.
"I remember being forgotten."
The blade completed—jagged, like fractured glass, glowing faintly blue.
The forgemaster nodded. "It remembers you too."
Kade lifted the blade.
Suddenly—the chamber shook.
Something tore through the sky above.
From the ceiling, a jagged hole ripped open, and a voice echoed through:
"KADE VERN. I SEE YOU."
A figure descended—a silhouette of twisting darkness, with multiple eyes spiraling across its chest. A voice that bled from other versions of himself.
Caela screamed. "It's him! The Harrower!"
Kade raised the blade.
The Harrower smiled.
Not with lips—but with time itself distorting around it.
"Let's test what kind of thread you really are."
---
End of Chapter 27