The moon shone brightly over the lush hills of Mounagiri Gakuen. A soft wind moved across the slopes, and the leaves rustled gently, as if whispering among themselves.
In the training courtyard, threads flickered — green, blue, and faint shades of purplish blue. Students gathered in small circles, some closing their eyes to breathe with the wind, letting its rhythm soothe their trembling threads.A few broke into a running contest, pushing their bodies against the resistance of the night air, testing how much strength still lived inside them.
Near the courtyard fountain, students sat shoulder to shoulder, voices low, speaking about the Kazan.
"Do you think Kazan kills those who break mid-resonance…?" The group fell silent.
One student gave a nervous laugh."Come on, man. It's not a death trial." A pause followed. "…That's what they say."
A sharp snap cut through the air. A junior's thread split mid-weave and collapsed. The child cried openly, his shoulders shaking, while others rushed forward to wrap him in quiet comfort. "Again," a senior said gently, steadying the junior's hands. "Find your roots. Hold your threads. Weave them slowly, let them guide you."
From behind a pillar near the Shizumanam, Kodo watched. So many hearts are trying. So many threads stretched thin, for a storm they never caused.
He looked down at his palm. White threads glimmered there, calm and unhurried. Tamara's steady voice surfaced in his memory. Tom's stubborn laughter followed, warm and grounding.
Kodo stepped into the moonlight and pressed a hand to his chest. "I can't undo the mess I brought," he whispered."But I can hold it." He raised his hands, not to fight, not to summon, only to promise. From his palms, white threads curled upward, gentle and certain, like a vow made to the night. "I will hold it."
Across the courtyard, near the moonlit lake, Tamara and Tom caught sight of him. They exchanged a glance, then smiled. Standing side by side, they placed their hands together, one over the other. "Kazan," Tom said softly. Tamara smiled. "Here we come."
Far above, in the shadowed eaves of the west tower, a pulse of crimson shimmered. Eiroh stood alone before an obsidian thread-device etched with ancient Noolzai runes. He pressed two fingers to its surface.
An old, deep voice answered."…So. The Kazan begins." "You know what's at stake," Eiroh said quietly."If the anomaly awakens—" "We do not interfere," the voice cut in."The loom reveals truth by tension."
Eiroh clenched his jaw."And if the loom breaks?" Silence enveloped the area. The device dimmed.
He looked down toward the courtyard, where faint laughter still lingered. His gaze settled briefly on Tamara. "Don't break, princess," he murmured.
Then his eyes shifted — to Kodo. It's only the beginning, he thought. Let's see how your threads resonate and glow.