The First Dawn
The world that emerged from the Loom was not perfect.
It breathed in shades of gold and silver, spun with threads of joy and loss, laughter and memory. Mountains shimmered with hues unseen in the old world. Forests whispered with the voices of those who came before, and rivers carried echoes of truths once buried. It was not the world they had left—but something more. Something real.
Zahra stood on a high ridge, the wind tugging at her cloak. Below, valleys unfurled like pages of a story waiting to be written. The people—the survivors, the dreamers, the new Weavers—were already rebuilding. They planted not just seeds in soil, but hope in their hearts.
Kael approached from behind, carrying a bundle of thread in his arms. Not magical this time—simple cloth. For warmth. For
