Weaver's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

The archmage's chains reached Weaver's mind first, and slid off like water. That was the gift. Every slave in Aregrum bent to the archmage's will, but Weaver's thoughts ran too fast to catch. Weaver stood in the doorway of a small weaver's cottage, gripping a sword that could cut more than flesh. Outside, the enslaved marched in silent lines toward the archmage's tower. Weaver meant to break every chain. But one mind was too much to save alone. A prisoner knelt in the cottage's back room. Red skin, two curved horns, white hair. A demon-elf hybrid, wrists bound not by rope but by the archmage's spell. The captive's yellow eyes stared at nothing. The chains lived inside the mind. Weaver had watched this hybrid fight the tower's guards for three days before they dragged him here. Even chained, he was fast, strong, hard to kill. Freed, he might turn the war. Weaver knelt and pressed two fingers to the hybrid's brow. The archmage's spell coiled there, tight and cruel. Weaver's fast thoughts traced its knots. One wrong cut and the mind would break instead of free. "Hold still," Weaver said. "This will hurt." The hybrid's jaw clenched. "Then be quick." Weaver lifted the sword. The blade shifted, no longer meant for flesh. Weaver chose the spiritual edge. He set the point against the invisible chain and pushed. The hybrid screamed. Light burst from his brow. The spell snapped, thread by thread, until the last knot gave. His eyes cleared. He gasped like a man pulled from deep water. Then the change hit Weaver. Breaking the chain fed strength back into Weaver. Each freed ally poured power into the one who freed them, and this ally was worth an army. The room brightened. Weaver's veins burned. Every sense sharpened at once. Weaver felt small and enormous in the same breath, lifted from mortal into something far higher. The rush did not stop. It kept climbing until Weaver had to grip the floor to stay kneeling. The hybrid rose and steadied Weaver with one hand. "You freed me." His voice shook. "No one has ever cut those chains." "Kaelthas." Weaver knew the name now, pulled loose with the spell. "That's your name." "Kaelthas Shadow." He almost smiled. "And you burn like a god. What did I just make you?" Weaver looked at hands that glowed faintly. The power was real and vast. But so was the danger. The archmage would feel this the moment it happened, a divine spark flaring where a slave should have died. Outside, the silent marching stopped. Every enslaved head turned toward the cottage at once. "They felt it," Weaver said. "He felt it." Kaelthas drew close, ready to fight. "Then he knows exactly where we are." Weaver stood, no longer weak, no longer alone. One chain broken had made an ally and a target. The archmage was coming. Weaver activated Raphael who was able to successfully give weaver 100,000 hours of close combat, swordsmanship, and elite magical ability within 10 minutes before the enemy arrives. Weaver is now the ultimate weapon ready to be a one man cataclysmic weapon.