Tides of the Moon

As Divine wove thread after thread into the Loom of Eternity, the weight of each life she touched pressed heavily on her spirit. Yet with every thread mended, a spark of hope glimmered within her. She was piecing together more than just the tapestry—she was rebuilding herself.

The threads began to form patterns that told stories: a family reunited after a storm, a warrior who found peace, a child who dared to dream again. Each story brought warmth to her heart, but it also deepened her understanding of the pain she had caused.

"I don't know how you're still standing," Caelan said as they walked. His voice was gentle, but his concern was clear. "You've given so much of yourself already. How much more can you take?"

Divine paused, her pendant glowing faintly as she caught her breath. "I don't know," she admitted. "But every thread I mend feels like a step closer to… redemption. Or maybe just understanding."

Before Caelan could respond, the air around them shimmered, and a ripple passed through the tapestry beneath their feet. The threads darkened, their light dimming as shadows seeped into the weave.

A cold wind swept through the expanse, and the veiled woman reappeared, her presence more solemn than before. "The Loom reacts to your progress, Keeper, but it also reveals the fractures you have yet to face. Be warned—these threads hold truths that may break you."

Divine straightened, her gaze steady. "I've faced my past before. I can face it again."

The woman raised her hand, and a new thread unraveled from the tapestry, its light faint and flickering. Divine reached for it, but the moment her fingers brushed its surface, she was pulled into another memory.

She stood in a grand hall bathed in moonlight, its walls adorned with intricate carvings of celestial patterns. At the center of the room, her younger self knelt before a mirror that stretched from floor to ceiling. The younger Divine's face was twisted with desperation, her hands clutching the pendant tightly.

"Show me how to fix it," the younger Divine whispered, her voice cracking. "Show me how to undo the damage I've done."

The mirror's surface rippled, and a shadowed figure appeared within it—a dark, distorted reflection of herself.

"You cannot fix what is broken," the shadow said, its voice cold and unyielding. "But you can erase it. Take the power you hold and rewrite the threads. Start anew."

The younger Divine hesitated, her grip on the pendant tightening. "Erase it? What happens to the people tied to those threads?"

"They will cease to be," the shadow replied. "But their suffering will end. Isn't that what you want?"

The memory froze, and the present Divine stepped forward, her heart pounding as she watched her younger self wrestle with the decision.

"I almost did it," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I almost destroyed everything just to escape the guilt."

The veiled woman's voice echoed around her. "You chose not to, but the temptation remains within you. That choice has not disappeared—it waits, lingering in the fractures of your soul."

The scene shifted, and Divine found herself standing before the mirror once more. This time, it reflected her current self, but the shadowed figure still lingered, its presence oppressive.

"You think mending a few threads will absolve you?" the shadow sneered. "You think you can undo the pain you've caused?"

"I'm not trying to undo it," Divine said, her voice firm. "I'm trying to learn from it. To be better."

The shadow laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Better? You're weak. Every thread you mend takes a piece of you. How long before there's nothing left?"

Divine stared at her reflection, the weight of the shadow's words pressing down on her. She felt the exhaustion in her bones, the strain of giving so much of herself. But she also felt the light within her—the light that had grown brighter with every act of mending, every step forward.

"I'd rather give everything I have than let my mistakes define me," she said, her voice steady.

The shadow's form flickered, its edges blurring. "You cannot escape me. I am the part of you that will never let go."

"Maybe I don't have to escape you," Divine said, stepping closer to the mirror. "Maybe I just have to accept that you're a part of me—and that I can still choose to be more than my darkness."

The pendant around her neck flared, its light piercing through the shadow. The mirror cracked, its surface shattering into countless fragments that dissolved into the air.

When the vision faded, Divine found herself back in the Loom of Eternity. The veiled woman stood before her, a faint smile visible beneath the light of her veil.

"You have faced the fractures and begun to mend them," the woman said. "But your journey is far from over. The threads you weave will shape not only your destiny but the destiny of countless others."

Divine nodded, her resolve stronger than ever. "I'm ready."

As she and Caelan continued forward, the tapestry beneath their feet began to glow brighter, the threads weaving themselves into patterns that hinted at the future—a future shaped by the choices Divine had yet to make.