The aftermath of the confrontation in the catacombs lingered in Alex's bones like a chill that refused to fade. Ravenswood above was quieter than usual, the townspeople moving with hushed urgency as if they too sensed that something beneath their feet had shifted.
Alex spent the next day in restless reflection, replaying every moment in the chamber: the Weaver's steady presence, the Unraveler's fury, the way the corrupted thread had pulsed with both dread and hope. Each memory was an echo, a reminder that the web was mended-but not whole.
As dusk settled, Alex found themselves wandering to the edge of town, where the old willow trees bent low over the river. The pendant and silver thread felt heavier now, as if carrying the weight of the town's fragile peace.
A soft footfall behind made Alex turn. The Shadow Weaver emerged from the deepening gloom, his expression solemn but not unkind.
"We bought time, not safety," the Weaver said quietly. "The Unraveler is wounded, but not gone. And now, the web is vulnerable in new ways."
Alex nodded, feeling the truth of it in the air. "What happens next?"
The Weaver looked to the horizon, where the last light faded. "Now, we must seek the lost oaths-the ancient promises made when Ravenswood was founded. Only by restoring them can we strengthen the web for the battles ahead."
Alex's resolve hardened. "Then we start tonight."
The Weaver nodded, shadows swirling at his feet. "There will be trials. Some threads are hidden in memories, others in the hearts of those who have forgotten their purpose. But you are ready, Alex. You've faced your own darkness. Now you must help others do the same."
As the moon rose, casting silver light over the river and the town beyond, Alex understood: the fight for Ravenswood was no longer just about survival. It was about healing, unity, and the courage to face what lay hidden in the shadows.
Together, Alex and the Weaver stepped into the night, ready to chase echoes and rekindle forgotten oaths-before the Unraveler could strike again.