The fall

Previously

…Echo looked at me, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and a nascent understanding. "It's… gone. But it said… choices." I looked down at the obsidian shard in my hand. It was cool again, the symbols inert. But I knew, with a certainty that resonated deep within my fractured being, that the Weaver had not lied. This place, this unified reality, was a construct. And I, Elias Thorne, was no longer just a lost soul. I was a weaver, a knot, a potential unraveler. The threads were within my grasp, and the tapestry of existence lay before me, waiting to be understood, waiting to be chosen. The question was, what kind of weaver would I become?