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For a moment, nothing existed but light and rhythm.
Ayame felt it pulsing through her—the thrum of stars, the beat of forgotten time, and a thread unraveling within her chest that didn't feel like her own. The seventh key had dissolved into her palm the instant she touched it. Now it coursed through her veins, ancient and alive.
Kael's voice snapped into the void like a lifeline.
"Ayame! Say something!"
She gasped, eyes flying open.
They were still inside the Spire… but everything had changed.
The room was still round, but infinite. Its walls moved as if made of slow-turning constellations, whispering in languages no one had ever written down. The pedestal where the final key had hovered was gone, replaced by a glowing loom—massive, celestial, and humming with unseen power.
And at the center of it all: Ayame.
She floated inches above the ground, not by choice, strands of starlight looping around her limbs. The keys they'd gathered were no longer items—they had become threads, and they now wove themselves into patterns she couldn't decipher.
Yui stood nearby, wide-eyed. "She's become the Loomkeeper."
"The what now?" Kael shouted.
"She touched the seventh key with a soul already bonded to the others," Yui said, her voice trembling. "She didn't unlock the Dream's fate. She *became* it."
Ayame felt herself vibrating. Thoughts came to her uninvited—memories that weren't hers. A child who drowned in a mirror pool. A starship that never launched. A prince who traded his kingdom for a single kiss. They whirled inside her like unfinished songs.
"I see everything," she whispered.
Kael rushed to her side. "Then see *me*. Stay here."
Ayame's gaze snapped to him—and slowly, the light dimmed.
The loom quieted. Her feet touched the floor again.
The tower stopped spinning.
Kael caught her in his arms before she could fall. "That's twice now you've nearly ascended to celestial nonsense. I'm not losing you to glowing threads."
She laughed weakly. "Would've been a cool way to go."
"I'd rather you didn't."
Yui approached, more somber. "We should leave. The Dream is shifting now, reshaping itself around Ayame. Staying too long could trap us in something that doesn't exist yet."
They exited the tower.
But outside… was not the world they remembered.
The Liminal Spire was gone.
In its place stood a quiet field of floating petals—red and gold and weightless, suspended in midair. The sky had no sun, no moon, only a ring of soft glowing symbols.
The world had rewritten itself.
Kael looked around. "Are we still dreaming?"
"No," Ayame said, surprised by how certain she sounded. "We're in the in-between. The place where stories choose how they end."
Yui frowned. "That's… not good."
From across the field, a figure appeared. No footsteps, no sound—just presence.
The Custodian.
But this time, his robes were white. His expression was gentler, more human. He held something in his hand—a mirror, blank and rippling.
"You chose to take the Loom," he said to Ayame. "Now the Dream will follow *your* threads."
Kael stepped in front of her. "What does that mean for us?"
"It means," the Custodian said, "that not all threads are willing to be woven."
He turned the mirror toward them.
And Ayame screamed.
Inside it—reflected not just their faces, but *every* version of them. Infinite Kaels and Ayames. Some who never met. Some who died young. Some who ruled kingdoms. Some who destroyed them.
The mirror shimmered.
One of the reflections—an Ayame cloaked in fire and crowned with horns—turned and *noticed them*. She smiled.
Then she stepped out of the mirror.
Kael swore.
"Uh, why does evil-you look like she listens to metal and eats planets?" he muttered.
Ayame backed up. "She's one of the broken threads."
Evil-Ayame's voice rang like cracked bells. "You took my fate. Now I'll take yours."
More reflections began to shift. Step closer.
Yui grabbed Ayame's arm. "You wove the Loom… but now you have to decide which threads remain. If the wrong ones escape—"
A massive boom shook the field.
Kael unsheathed his blade. "No more talking. We end this."
But Ayame stood frozen, heart racing.
So many threads.
So many selves.
And all of them wanted *in*.
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