Prologue: The Ones Who Weave

A man clad in black walked among the cosmos. Even his hair and goatee were dark, save for a single streak of white that broke through the black. His hands brushed through the currents of time as though they were water, sending invisible ripples through eternity. 

He walked on, surrounded by nothing but stars and drifting galaxies, until a palace came into view. It floated in the inky void, vast and silent. He took a deep breath, a smile tugging on his lips.

He was finally home.

He stepped inside, taking a lazy look around. It hadn’t changed. Everything, even after more than a millennia, was still right where it had been the last time he came home. He let a relieved sigh escape him and then noticed the twinkling specks on him. He brushed stardust from his shoulder.

“You had better not be making a mess.”

The voice was sultry, echoing through the halls as if it could see everything he did. A faint smile touched his lips.

He walked down the quiet hall and stepped through an open doorway. The room beyond glowed softly, lit by floating orbs. Crimson lace drifted from the ceiling and walls, stirring without wind, forming a delicate canopy that seemed to breathe with the room itself. 

At its center sat a woman. Her hair was a deep, vivid red. Her eyes were sharp and piercing, their color matching her hair. Blood dripped from her fingers, spinning into thin strands she wove together with careful precision, adding to the endless lace around her.

He approached, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek. She smiled, lifting a hand to cradle his face.

“Welcome home, Myrios.”

“Thank you, Serum.” He turned his attention to her work, studying the intricate patterns forming beneath her hands. “These are new. I see you have been working hard.”

“Someone has to record destiny,” she replied, not looking up as she continued weaving. “How are the children?” she asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.

Myrios leaned back against the only bare wall in the room, a faint smile resting at the edge of his lips.

“The same as ever. Though Dewh has created something they call a tsunami.”

Serum paused, her eyes flickering away from the lace and towards the older man, her full attention on him now.

“A tsunami?” She asked. Her face shifted into a mix of curiosity and worry.

"A wave... one large enough to swallow whole cities," Myrios explained. His face remained serious, but a playful glint danced in his golden eyes. 

Serum exhaled slowly as she rubbed the bridge of her nose. Myrios walked over towards her and placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“They are still young, dear. I am sure they will settle in another twenty thousand years.” Myrios said as he chuckled softly. She smiled weakly in return before returning her piercing crimson gaze back to her work.

“Has anything of note occurred?” he asked, leaning closer to watch as the lace shifted and formed beneath her fingers.

"Quite a bit," she said, a faint smile touching her lips. "I can see seven, perhaps more, in this timeline alone." Her smile deepened ever so slightly. "Humans are endlessly entertaining." Serum said as she stared at the blood-spun threads.

“Would you care to choose one and tell me about it?” he asked.

She scoffed lightly, her red eyes once more taking in Myrios.

“Could you choose a single moment in time?” Serum said, her voice carrying a hint of sarcasm, though a glimmer lingered in her eyes. She had already chosen where to begin.

"Humor me," he said with a wink.

Serum’s expression softened. “Very well.”

Her fingers slowed, selecting a single thread from the countless others. Carefully she lifted it higher.

“This one takes place in Gildan.”

She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing as she followed its path.

“Just before the String is born.”