Chapter 180
Chapter 180: The Garden's Call
The bell from the first world's garden tolls again, and Elenwe must decide whether to answer it. The child's golden thread pulls toward the crack in the ceiling, while the remnant warns of a price that has not yet been named. As the golden light spreads, a figure steps through the fissure—not an enemy, but a weaver from the first world, carrying a thread that should have been consumed long ago.
The bell tolled again, deeper this time, and the golden light above them spread like water seeping through a cracked vessel. The star-lit ceiling shimmered, each fracture a vein of molten amber, and the air grew thick with the scent of damp earth and blooming vines.
Elenwe felt the silver circle on her palm pulse in rhythm with the sound. The obsidian thread coiled within it stirred, not with hunger but with recognition—a wordless memory of soil and rain.
“It knows you,” the child said, her voice distant, as if she were hearing the bell from a great distance. Her golden thread lifted from her chest, a thin strand of light that swayed toward the crack above. “The garden remembers the song I sang. It wants me to return.”
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