The snow had stopped, but the silence lingered.
Ash from the burned carts still clung to the village square. Scorched wood crackled as the wind swept through. The crows had returned—not circling now, just sitting. Perched. Patient.
Lumen stood at the far edge of the village, a small cloth bundle in his hands. Inside it lay the shattered sigil shard from Hollowbrand—the weapon that had once pulsed with voidlight, now just a dull fragment of gold and bone.
He crouched beside a tree and began to dig.
Not with power. Not with threads. Just his hands.
"You could keep it," Rin said quietly from behind him.
"I don't want it."
"It's rare. Worth more than this whole village."
He shook his head.
"I don't want to use something that devoured people."
He buried the shard beneath the frost-hardened soil, pressing it down as if the earth could forget. Then he stood.
Rin handed him a worn cloth — someone had stitched it into a makeshift cloak. It smelled like ash and pine.
"From Jerrek," she said. "He said even scarecrows get cold."
Lumen put it on.
It fit.
Later that night, the firelight flickered low inside the chapel.
Lumen sat on the floor, sharpening a stick into something vaguely blade-shaped. He didn't need a weapon. Not really. But his hands needed work.
Rin was still awake, pacing the edges of the old stone walls.
She paused near the altar — where broken wood and old parchment had gathered dust for years.
Then she froze.
"...Lumen."
He looked up.
She brushed aside a collapsed panel. Behind it, wedged between brick and rot, was a torn page. Half-burned. Faint ink.
She squinted.
"...and when the Clown is Silent, the puppets no longer dance. But the Thread will remain..."
She turned it over. Symbols. Scribbles. One looked like a mask drawn in ash.
"You ever hear of a Silent Clown?"
Lumen stood slowly. The moment she said it, something shifted in the chapel.
A flicker — just behind his ribs.
Then pain.
He dropped the stick. Clutched his chest.
🛠️ [System Alert: Core Mark Manifesting]
⚠️ Threadbinder Core Integration Phase II Initiated
Internal Seal Broken
He gasped as heat bloomed across his sternum — not flame, but thread.
Glowing strands surged from beneath his skin, curling outward into a mark — circular, jagged, like a wheel with seven spokes and a single cut down the center.
Rin rushed to his side.
"What the hell—"
The sigil flared.
Then dimmed.
🛠️ [New Trait Acquired: Threadbinder Mark — Active]
Weave Resistance: +50% Memory Anchor: Stabilized The Eyes will now notice you.
Lumen looked up.
"Eyes?"
Rin stared at the mark.
"What kind of Eyes?"
He didn't answer.
Because in that moment, across the ceiling of the chapel — in the shadows where moonlight couldn't reach —
something blinked.
Outside, the village prepared quietly for morning.
People began stacking the broken wood into something that resembled walls.
Children helped sweep ash with frozen brooms.
One of the mothers baked for the first time since the attack. She handed Lumen a half-burned crust.
"You kept them safe," she said.
He nodded, unsure what to say.
Rin looked over the rooftops, toward the trees.
"The puppet hasn't come back," she muttered.
"It never left," Lumen said.
He looked to the treeline.
And though he saw nothing —
He felt it.
Watching.
That night, after Rin had finally fallen asleep, Lumen stepped outside alone. He knelt beside the tree where he'd buried Hollowbrand's shard.
The snow had melted slightly.
There, near the roots, lay a single golden tooth.
He didn't touch it.
He whispered to the dirt.
"I won't carry your power."
He turned away.
But behind him, unseen —
A thin white thread uncurled from the earth.
🛠️ [System Conflict: Thread Drift Detected]
🛠️ [Warning: Eye Contact — Probable]
Back in the chapel, the stitched doll lay on the altar, its button eyes turned toward the ceiling.
It smiled.
Not with thread.
But with shadow.
░The clown is silent. The Eye begins to open.░