Chapter 8
A Glimpse of the Past
Through Gate Four, I witnessed historical anomalies. Silas explained how The Weaver was rewriting events. I had to choose which past to preserve, a heavy burden for one so young.
The air in front of me shimmered, not like heat haze on a summer road, but with a strange, internal luminescence. It was as if the very fabric of the world had snagged, a tiny tear in the tapestry of existence. This was the fourth Gate, Silas had explained, the Gate of Memory, and it was his task to guide me through its unsettling depths. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. I’d seen the ripples, the flickers, the moments where time seemed to stutter. Now, I was about to step into its source.
“This Gate,” Silas’s voice was a low rumble, almost swallowed by the humming energy around us, “holds the echoes of what was. But The Weaver has begun to twist them, to rewrite the script of history itself.” He gestured with a slender hand towards the shimmering portal, which now pulsed with an almost violet light. “What you see within is not necessarily what truly happened. It is a reflection, a distortion, a weapon.”
Hesitantly, I reached out a finger. The energy felt cool, like moonlight