Page 248 of The Ascended
"Welcome," Vorinar intoned, "to the Tapestry of Fates."
The mist around us suddenly solidified into a portal—no, seven portals, one for each contestant. They hung in the air like tears in reality, showing glimpses of an impossible space beyond.
"Your destiny awaits within the Library of All Things," Vorinar continued. "Every life that was, is, or shall be is written upon itsshelves. Every thread that connects one soul to another is woven into the great Tapestry."
Aella giggled, the sound sharp and unsettling. "But oh, what fun is a straight thread? I've added some... improvements. Little surprises to keep things interesting!"
"Your task is simple," Vorinar said, ignoring his fellow Aesymar's interruption. "Find your thread within the Tapestry. Follow it to your token of destiny. Return before the Library closes at dawn. But knots might occur. And those will have to be untangled to complete this Trial."
"Simple!" Aella crowed. "So beautifully simple! Of course, touching the wrong thread might have dire consequences." Her grin widened impossibly. "But what's life without a little risk?"
"The inner sanctum is forbidden," Vorinar added. "The Loom of Destiny is not for mortal eyes. Those who trespass..."
He didn't need to finish.
"One more thing," Aella said, producing what looked like crystalline seeds from thin air. She threw them toward the portals, where they vanished with tiny pops. "I've scattered some party favors throughout. Chaos seeds, I call them. They make things so much more... flexible."
The portals pulsed, pulling at us with invisible force.
"Enter," Vorinar commanded. "Let fate guide your steps."
I had just enough time to catch Thatcher's eye before the portal claimed me.
The transition was like being stretched across time itself. Then reality snapped back, and I stumbled forward into the Library of All Things.
And I thought the Bone Spire’s library was excessive.
Shelves stretched impossibly high, disappearing into misty distances. Books of every size and condition lined them—some bound in leather, others in materials I couldn't identify. The air thrummed with the whispered voices of billions of lives, each book murmuring its story in an endless breeze.
I stood on a mirrored platform that reflected not my image, but fragments of my past—there I was at five, crying over a broken toy; at fifteen, kissing a boy for the first time; at seventeen, when a pod of dolphins found Thatcher and I in Saltcrest’s waters.
Thatcher?I reached out through our bond, relieved when I felt him respond.
I'm here. Different section, I think. This place...His mental voice trailed off, overwhelmed.
Find the center,I told him.
I chose a direction at random, and began walking. The books called to me as I passed, their whispers growing louder when I drew near.
"Would you like to know how you die?" one offered in a voice that scraped against my mind.
"The secret your mother never told you," another promised.
"The name of your first child," a third suggested.
I forced myself to ignore them, though curiosity clawed at my resolve. These were traps, distractions. I needed to find the Tapestry.
The path twisted and turned, stairs appearing where none had been before, corridors reshaping themselves when I wasn't looking. Time felt fluid here—I might have walked for minutes or hours.
Then I heard the scream.
It cut through the whispers, high and terrible. I ran toward it, my footsteps echoing strangely in the vast space.
I found the source three corridors later—a contestant I vaguely recognized writhing on the ground, aging rapidly. His hair went from brown to gray to white, skin wrinkling and sagging as decades passed in heartbeats.
A small, crystalline object rolled away from his convulsing form—a chaos seed, its surface crackling with distorted energy.
I pressed myself against the wall as the aging accelerated. In moments, he was dust, his screams cutting off abruptly. The books around us absorbed his remains, their whispers taking on his voice, adding his story to their endless chorus.
