Chapter 21 The Final Cut
The man standing on the dragon’s head had my father’s face, but his soul was a hollow pit. He held the First Weaver’s shears like a holy relic. The rusty metal groaned as he opened the blades, aiming them at the young Solis.
"Father, stop!" I screamed. My voice cracked. I felt like a little girl again, watching my world burn. "The First Weaver is gone! You don't have to do this!"
"The First Weaver didn't die, Eara," the man said. His voice was a mixture of my father's kindness and a god’s cruelty. "He simply found a better suit to wear. Your father’s love for you was the perfect door. It let me in when you were at your weakest."
He wasn't my father. He was the parasite that had survived the reset by hiding inside the only person I trusted.
Young Solis backed away, his small boots tripping over the broken stone of the altar. He looked at me, his eyes wide and wet. "Eara? Who is he? Why does he want to hurt me?"
"Because you are the light, boy," the creature hissed. "And the light makes too many shadows. It’s time to end the cycle. No more Sun Kings. No more Moon Weavers. Just the Great Silence."
He lunged. The three-headed shadow dragon roared, its wings beating back the dust of the ruined cathedral. One head snapped at me, forcing me to dive behind a fallen marble pillar. I felt the cold wind of its teeth missing my spine by an inch.
I have to get those shears, I thought. My heart was thumping against my ribs like a trapped bird. If he cuts the thread of this Solis, the future I remember will never happen. The man I loved will be deleted forever.
"Solis, run!" I yelled.
The boy didn't run. He stood his ground. He reached into his tunic and pulled out the golden dagger, the one he had used to stab the heart shard. It was glowing with a faint, flickering light.
"I’m not a coward," the boy said, his voice shaking. "If I’m the king, then I’m supposed to protect her!"
"A king?" the creature laughed. It was a horrible, grating sound. "You are a spark in a hurricane."
The creature jumped from the dragon’s head, falling toward Solis with the shears open. I didn't think. I didn't plan. I just moved. I grabbed a long piece of silver silk that was still hanging from the broken ceiling, a remnant of the old loom.
I swung.
I hit the creature midair, my weight knocking him off balance. We crashed into the side of a stone tomb. The shears clattered to the floor, sliding across the dusty tiles.
I scrambled toward them, but a black, smoky hand grabbed my throat. My father’s face was inches from mine. His eyes were milky white, and his skin felt like cold clay.
"You were always my favorite mistake, Eara," he whispered. "You wove so much beauty out of so much pain. But even the best fabric has to be trimmed."
He began to squeeze. I couldn't breathe. The world started to go grey at the edges. I looked at the boy, Solis, who was picking up the shears.
"No!" I tried to wheeze out. "Solis, don't touch them!"
The shears weren't just metal. They were part of the Loom. If a non-weaver touched them, they would drink their life. I saw the gold light in the boy’s hands begin to fade as the rusty shears turned a bright, angry red.
"Drop them!" I screamed, finding a tiny bit of air.
Solis didn't drop them. He looked at me, and for a second, I saw the man he would become. I saw the warrior who had held me in the dark.
"He’s hurting you," the boy said.
He didn't use the shears to cut a thread. He used them as a sword. He plunged the blades into the chest of the creature holding me.
A sound like a thousand windows breaking filled the cathedral. White light erupted from the wound, blinding me. The grip on my throat vanished. I fell to the floor, gasping for air, rubbing my neck.
When the light faded, the creature was gone. My father was lying on the floor, his eyes back to their normal silver-blue. He was breathing, but he was unconscious.
The three-headed dragon was dissolving into black mist, its roar turning into a whimper.
I crawled toward Solis. He was sitting on the floor, staring at his hands. The shears were lying next to him, turned to grey ash.
"Is it over?" he asked softly.
I looked at my arm. The silver star scar was glowing. "I think so," I whispered. "I think we finally broke it."
But then, I heard a laugh. It wasn't coming from the room. It was coming from inside my own head.
"Broke it?" Seraphine’s voice echoed. "You didn't break the cycle, Eara. You just gave the Void a new set of eyes."
I looked at Solis. He wasn't looking at me anymore. He was staring at the space behind me.
"Eara," he whispered, his voice full of a new, terrifying awe. "Your back..."
I reached behind me. I felt something cold and sharp growing from my shoulder blades. I looked at my reflection in a puddle of water on the floor.
A pair of wings made of black glass had burst through my skin. And in the center of my forehead, a third eye, red and hungry, was slowly opening.
The Shadow-King hadn't wanted Solis. He had been waiting for the Weaver to become strong enough to hold him.
I wasn't the hero. I was the new cage.
"Eara?" Solis asked, reaching out a hand.
I felt a hunger I had never known. A hunger to eat the light in his eyes. My hand moved on its own, my fingers turning into long, black claws.
"Run, Solis," I growled, my voice sounding like a dragon’s. "Run before I eat you."
Suddenly, the cathedral doors blew inward. A group of men in silver armor, the Moon-Hunter Elite, marched in.
"There she is!" their leader shouted. "The Void-Queen has risen! Kill her before she wakes the sun!"
They didn't aim at the shadows. They aimed their silver harpoons directly at my heart.