The forest behind the academy was colder than Nox expected.
Silverwood trees towered like pale pillars in the dark, their leaves glowing faintly with the same threadlight he had seen woven into the walls of the academy. Every step he took sent a soft crackle across grass that shimmered like cracked glass, reflecting a sky that held no sun, no stars—only a strange, endless glow.
His breath came fast.
His thoughts came faster.
> They were going to kill me.
He could still hear their voices—sharp, layered, and cold.
> Unravel the weave.
Forbidden thread.
Council must cleanse the error.
Nox clutched his torn jacket tighter. It was too clean for something that had seen battle. Too smooth. Like everything else here, it didn't feel real. Not to him.
"What the hell kind of place is this…" he muttered.
Then he stopped.
There, in the middle of the clearing, someone stood.
A girl.
Barefoot, motionless, surrounded by glowing ferns that pulsed softly in the dark. Her uniform was the same style as the others in the academy—except lifeless. Greyed-out. As if all color had been bled from it, like a thread cut from the loom.
Her long hair floated behind her like strands of silk drifting in a current only she could feel.
And her eyes...
They were closed.
> Is she… asleep?
Nox stepped forward—once, then again. Carefully. Warily.
She didn't move.
But the moment his foot crossed into the faint ring of light around her, something pierced the air—
---
> > [System Alert: Unregistered Entity Detected.]
[Shadowline: NULL.]
---
No threadlight activated. No defense. No purge. Just… silence.
Stillness.
The system said nothing else.
Nox's voice cracked softly in the cold: "Who are you?"
The girl opened her eyes.
They weren't silver. Not white. Just... pale. Like old thread, bleached and forgotten by time. She looked at him without blinking, as if trying to remember something that was once important.
"…You're the boy," she said.
Her voice was soft. So soft, it felt like speaking any louder would tear her apart.
"You're not supposed to be here."
Nox took a cautious step back. "Yeah, I got that already. Thanks."
"No." She tilted her head slightly. "You… don't have a thread."
That stopped him.
> What the hell does that mean?
He raised his hands slowly, palms open. "Look, I don't know what game this is. Some system keeps screaming I'm an error. People tried to erase me just for breathing. I'm not here to fight."
She blinked once.
Then asked: "Then why did you wake up?"
He opened his mouth to answer—but nothing came out.
> Why… did I wake up?
He remembered a street. Rain. Neon light. A voice—not outside, but behind his chest.
Calling him.
Her fingers twitched.
She leaned in, studying him—not with fear. Not with hate.
With curiosity.
"You're not bound by the Loom," she whispered. "You're not even supposed to exist."
He forced a half-smile. "Well, that's a hell of a welcome. Got any tea?"
She didn't laugh.
She pointed behind him.
"They're coming."
He turned.
Footsteps. Voices. Runes igniting the forest floor. The sound of the system humming through the threadlight, growing louder.
He tensed.
But before he could move, she was beside him—impossibly fast. Her hand brushed his shoulder.
"Follow me," she said. "I know where threads go to hide."