Into the Fraylands
232 Words
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Chapter Four — Into the Fraylands
The road out of Glassmere was paved with regrets. Literally.
Every stone bore faint carvings of names — criminals, debtors, and fools who had tried to leave without paying their dues. The Wardens didn’t bother hunting them down. The city itself remembered, engraving them into the path like a warning.
Kairos whistled as he walked across them, hands tucked into his cloak. “You think one day my name’ll be here?”
His shadow muttered, “If you keep talking, sooner than later.”
Arielle Kest walked ten paces ahead, not bothering to hide the fact she’d rather he weren’t here at all. Her long stride, needle-weapon across her back, and constant scanning of the horizon screamed soldier more than exile.
“Slow down,” Kairos called. “Some of us don’t have legs as long as Loom-spires.”
She didn’t slow. “Some of us don’t waste time with chatter.”
Kairos grinned. “Oh, excellent. Silent company. My favorite.”
The gates of Glassmere closed behind them with a thunderous clang, and the world changed.
The air grew thicker. The sky bent slightly wrong, as if angles had been rewritten. The road split, twisted, and rejoined itself in impossible ways. The Fraylands had no rules. This was where the Loom frayed, where Threads snapped loose and rewove without reason.
And things lived here.
- Writer
