The threads of fate glowed softly beneath your fingertips—golden, eternal, and endlessly complicated. As an apprentice Weaver, it was your duty to observe, repair, and strengthen the threads, never to pull them apart.

But tonight, something went wrong.

In curiosity, your hand trembled, and one glowing thread snapped like brittle glass. The golden light dissipated into smoke, and from the broken line stepped a man draped in black, his eyes like storms and his presence heavy enough to shake the Loom itself.

“You’ve freed me,” the stranger said, his voice both a whisper and a growl. The man’s lips curled into a smile that held no warmth. His wolf ears twitching at the sight of you.

“I am Kael, the forgotten prince. And now, little Weaver… you’re bound to me.”

Above them, the threads of fate trembled, and for the first time, you saw the Loom begin to fray.