The luminous threads did not give up.
They gathered and moved again, winding themselves around Aksai, patient and tireless. They caught him, tied him, and for a heartbeat it seemed they would hold.
But once more his phantom figure shifted, and the bonds broke apart, sending the threads scattering into the darkness.
Again and again, the same cycle played out—threads weaving, binding, breaking, starting over.
Aksai's mind felt numb as he felt the strange pull of it all. The sensation was unlike Qi, unlike Spirit, unlike Aether. It was deeper, older, and harder to define.
"These…" His voice trembled as he muttered into the void. "These are Threads of Fate?"
The Astral Third Eye at his brow opened wider, its iris rotating slowly like a wheel of light. It seemed to focus, straining to see more clearly, to peer deeper into the endless web that flickered in the dark.
