The Threadbound series : Unraveling

Reveal Your Secrets

Alex

As I stood in the hallowed precincts of the thread binding ceremony, I couldn't help but be struck by the solemnity of the occasion. The temple grounds were a sight to behold, suffused with a sense of reverence that permeated the very air. The priests, their flowing robes a deep shade of violet, moved with an air of sacred purpose.

A line of aspiring veilweavers wound its way to the temple's heart. Lunar lilies adorned the path, their delicate white glowing petals a vivid contrast to the dividing violet veil.

The violet veil was a symbol of the divide between the sacred and the profane, stretched across the temple grounds, creating a stark demarcation. On one side stood the priests, bathed in the gentle radiance of lunar lilies that adorned every corner of the temple.

The temple itself was a magnificent architectural marvel, its walls adorned with intricate artwork depicting the Veil Gods in all their divine glory. Each visage, a mix of benevolence and judgment, gazed down upon the proceedings, their presence a constant reminder of the power that loomed over this sacred rite.

This was the moment of reckoning, the culmination of years of preparation. These children, on the cusp of adulthood, would now face the ultimate judgment. Behind the violet veil, the head priest with the fabled "sight" stood, ready to peer into their very souls and render his verdict.

Legend had it that during this crucial moment, the Veil Gods themselves would descend upon the head priest, bestowing upon him the divine insight needed to discern the worthiness of each child. Those found wanting, the unfortunate souls deemed unworthy, would be led away to a desolate side of the temple, where the imposing figures of the threadhunters stood guard, their presence a foreboding omen of the grim fate that awaited.

On the other side of the temple, the fortunate few who had been deemed worthy would undergo further tests to ascertain their affinities. These tests would ultimately determine the path their lives would take, as they were bound to the Veilborn deities by the other priests, their destinies forever intertwined with the mystical forces that governed their world.

Amidst this somber assembly, I stood guard at the line of the unworthy children, my gaze unwavering. Some sobbed uncontrollably, their tears flowing freely, while others trembled in fear, their eyes wide with dread. Yet, there were those who appeared lifeless, devoid of emotion, as if they had already resigned themselves to their cruel fate.

For the Unworthy, there was no hope of redemption. Their lives, it seemed, were forfeit. After being deemed unworthy, they would be sent to the dreaded Bone Island, transported through a portal to the desolate Paithilirith tree forests where nothing grew but despair.

There, in that forsaken land, most would meet a gruesome end. Some would consume the poisonous Paith berries, succumbing to a slow and agonizing death, while others would fall prey to the Serpents and other savage creatures that roamed the accursed forests. It was a fate that seemed to defy all sense of compassion, a brutal punishment for the perceived sins of their past.

If I were to be reborn in my next life, I'd surely be deemed unworthy. My heart was weighed down by the darkness of my thoughts. Would I be too cast away to the forsaken Bone Island? As I stood guard, the weight of my actions pressed upon me, and my mind drifted to grim possibilities. But then, in an instant, the world around me descended into chaos and confusion.

The head priest, his eyes ablaze with an otherworldly fire, ripped the sacred violet veil down, his movements like those of a man possessed. With every step he took toward the center of the temple ground, the air itself seemed to crackle with tension.

He pointed a trembling finger at the line of the Unworthy, and his voice, filled with an eerie resonance, cut through the tumultuous atmosphere. "The Gods have spared all," he declared, his words echoing like thunder. "Instead of the children's lives, they shall take the Elders who played with their name. The Corrupt Elders and the Threadhunters Repent! Reveal your secrets and repent!"

Then he fainted.

The priest's proclamation hung in the air, an electrifying charge that sent shockwaves through the gathered crowd. The people, threadhunters and common folk alike, were struck dumb with disbelief. I, too, stood there, rooted to the spot, my heart pounding in my chest.

Commander Vazur, his features etched with concern, swiftly approached the fallen head priest. With an urgency that mirrored the gravity of the situation, he knelt and checked the priest's heart. "He has passed away," Vazur announced, his voice steady but tinged with disbelief.

As the threadhunters and other priests gathered around their fallen comrade, their faces were drained of color, and their hands shook as they clutched their sacred vestments. Chants of Holy Weaver sermons filled the air, an eerie counterpoint to the chaos that had erupted.

The crowd, now a seething mass of emotions, unleashed a cacophony of voices. Some believed that the gods themselves were angry, while others proclaimed that it was the end of Aetheria as they knew it. Accusations of corruption among the Elders rippled through the assembly, adding fuel to the growing frenzy. Some were shouting that the rebels were right all along.

Amidst the bedlam, Commander Vazur and I, elemental commanders on duty, raised our voices to shout commands and restore some semblance of order. "Elemental guards, maintain the perimeter! Keep the crowd contained. No one enters or exits without authorization!"

We issued directives to our fellow elemental commanders: "Secure the temple grounds, and ensure no unauthorized personnel gain access. Send word to the Elemental Senate immediately. We require guidance and information to quell this unrest."

In that tumultuous moment, the future of Milandor hung in the balance, as the people demanded answers and the once-steadfast traditions and beliefs of our land were challenged like never before. The temple grounds, once a sanctuary of reverence, had become the epicenter of a crisis that threatened to reshape the course of our world.

In the midst of the tumultuous temple grounds, as I sought to control the crowd and prevent them from entering the sacred chambers, a flicker of movement caught my eye. A fast-moving figure, agile and nimble, seemed to materialize out of thin air. One moment, she was at the temple gates, and the next, she was dangerously close to the Unworthy.

Clad in a mysterious black hooded robe, she moved with a grace and speed that was both impressive and unsettling. My instincts kicked in, and I knew I couldn't let her go unchecked. With a swift command to Tristan to take my place at the gates, I maneuvered through the throng of people and followed the enigmatic woman.

Approaching her cautiously from behind, but before I could react, she turned and her fist connected with my nose, sending shockwaves of pain through my head. I staggered back, momentarily dazed by the unexpected attack.

The very ground beneath us trembled, as if echoing the tumultuous events unfolding around us. People began streaming into the temple, armed and determined. It was the rebels, and they had breached the sanctuary.

I regained my composure and focused on the mysterious woman, who appeared to be human, as she had yet to display any supernatural powers. We engaged in a fierce duel, a flurry of kicks and punches exchanged in rapid succession. I attempted to summon my elemental fire, but to my astonishment, I couldn't. It was as if the rebels had entered with bone shields that negated my powers.

I seized her by the shoulders, determined to unmask her and discover her true identity. With a fluid motion, she shrugged off her hooded robe, revealing a stranger with a cascade of long, violet hair that flowed like the sacred veil itself. However, there was something oddly familiar about her movements, though I couldn't quite place it.

Our fight continued, a whirlwind of blows and counterattacks, each move calculated and precise. But just as I was gaining the upper hand, someone struck me from behind with a blunt object. The world blurred and spun, and my vision faded as darkness encroached. The last thing I heard was a feminine voice—a voice that shouldn't have been familiar but was—declaring in her signature annoyed voice, "I had him."