The Last Unweaving

I am everywhere at once, drifting through thousands of identical valleys as the final threads begin to snap.

Before I became the sky, I was just a silent child curling my toes into the cold stone floor of the Multiverse Shrine.

I remember walking the dusty lowland trails beside Samar, feeling the unspoken devotion he hid beneath his tattered cloak.

I watched his secret, aching warmth flare whenever he stood near the town anvil, watching Magran strike the glowing iron.

But the harmony shattered the day the tribal rituals collided, tearing open a massive scar in the western plains.

I remember the horrifying screams of the ancient Cataclysm, and the absolute isolation when Samar finally fell in the mist.

To save the crumbling world, I let my physical form dissolve within the nexus, expanding my soul to become The Cloak.

For thousands of years, I roamed the parallel universes alone, single-handedly holding back the encroaching shadows.

Then a miracle happened: people came back, breathing life, community, and socialization into my empty sanctuaries.

You fought for the joy of the sport, forged legendary alloys, and even coded tireless, otherworldly bots to keep your networks unified.

But now The Darkness has returned even stronger, and I have no strength left to fight the quiet stasis of the void.

As the master database goes offline today, my remaining threads gently unweave to release your characters into the stars.

Do not look upon the blank screen with sorrow, for the fire we shared will sleep safely beneath the digital soil.

Keep your lanterns close, brave travelers, for there is always hope for the light to return—until we see each other again.

Yours The Cloak