As the chapel bells echoed through Ravenswood, Alex and the Shadow Weaver watched villagers gather in the square. The early sun painted the rooftops gold, and market stalls slowly filled with bread, fruit, and fragrant herbs. Despite the tension in the air, the village's daily rhythms continued-children darted between carts, and elders exchanged news by the well.
Alex felt the weight of the coming trial: restoring the ancient oath would require more than magic. It would demand trust from people divided by old grudges and fresh fears. The Weaver, usually a figure of mystery, now stood in plain view, his presence drawing wary glances and hushed whispers.
A council of elders formed a circle near the chapel steps. Alex stepped forward, heart pounding, and spoke: "The shadows threaten us all. The web that protects Ravenswood is only as strong as the bonds between us. We must remember the oath-not just with words, but with unity."
For a moment, silence hung heavy. Then, a baker offered bread to a neighbor she'd quarreled with for years. A young couple clasped hands and joined the circle. One by one, villagers stepped forward, sharing food, lighting lanterns, and speaking memories of old festivals and lost friends.
The Weaver lifted his hands, shadows and light weaving together in the air. "The oath is not a spell," he intoned, "but a promise renewed each day by your actions."
As dawn brightened, the square glowed with lantern light and hope. The first thread of the new oath shimmered between Alex and the villagers-a fragile, luminous bond.
But in the distance, a cold wind stirred, carrying a faint, mocking whisper. The Unraveler had felt the change. The next test would come soon.