A fragment salvaged from the Chronarium of Lost Echoes.
Before the fracturing, before the sundering of timelines, the Lithurgicians were not merely observers. They were, in a way that defies comprehension, *threads*. Each Lithurgician was a node within the Obsidian Loom, a vast, sentient structure that spanned realities, collecting and weaving the echoes of existence. These echoes were not simply memories; they were the raw, untamed potential of every event, every thought, every fleeting emotion that had ever been.
The Loom didn't record; it *felt*. It tasted the terror of a dying star, the exquisite sorrow of a forgotten god, the giddy joy of a child's first breath. And it wove this sensation into intricate patterns, into glyphs that resonated with the fundamental laws of being. These glyphs, when properly interpreted, could unlock pathways through time, allowing glimpses into alternate realities, predictions of future events, and, most terrifyingly, the ability to subtly *influence* the fabric of existence.
The Lithurgicians, known as the Thread-Keepers, were tasked with maintaining the integrity of the Loom. Their lives were a constant dance of observation and intervention, a delicate balancing act between preserving the flow of time and preventing catastrophic paradoxes. They wore robes spun from solidified moonlight, each thread imbued with the collected echoes of a thousand lost worlds.
Legend speaks of a ‘Chromatic Discord’ – a moment when the Loom’s weave was irrevocably disrupted, causing the fracturing.
The language of the Loom wasn't linear; it was vibrational. The glyphs weren’t symbols to be read, but resonances to be *felt*. Each glyph represented a specific point in the timeline, a nexus of potential. The Thread-Keepers didn't ‘write’ these glyphs; they coaxed them into being through a process of meditative manipulation, channeling their own consciousness into the Loom’s receptive core.
The most powerful glyphs, known as ‘Anchor Glyphs,’ could solidify timelines, preventing deviations and ensuring the continuity of events. Less potent glyphs, called ‘Echo Glyphs,’ were used to probe the past, seeking answers to forgotten questions. But the most dangerous glyphs, the ‘Shifting Glyphs,’ were forbidden. These glyphs didn't simply reveal the past or predict the future; they actively *altered* it, creating ripples that could unravel entire realities.
The Thread-Keepers understood that every action, no matter how small, had consequences within the Loom. A single misplaced thought, a moment of uncontrolled emotion, could trigger a cascade of alterations, leading to unforeseen outcomes. Therefore, they lived in a state of constant vigilance, suppressing their desires and carefully controlling their thoughts.
It is believed that the ‘Chromatic Discord’ was triggered by an attempt to weave a glyph of absolute certainty – a futile endeavor that shattered the Loom’s delicate balance.
The exact details of the Fall are shrouded in myth and speculation. What is known is that, following the ‘Chromatic Discord,’ the Loom began to unravel. The glyphs became unstable, the echoes distorted, and the Thread-Keepers, overwhelmed by the chaos, succumbed to madness.
Some accounts claim they attempted to use the remaining fragments of the Loom to repair the damage, but their efforts only accelerated the unraveling. Others suggest they were consumed by the echoes themselves, trapped within the Loom’s fractured pathways, forever lost in a sea of infinite possibilities.
All that remains are fragments – echoes of their existence scattered throughout the shattered timelines. These fragments manifest as fleeting visions, unsettling dreams, and a persistent sense of unease, a reminder of the power and the peril of the Obsidian Loom.
Whispers persist of a single Thread-Keeper, known only as ‘Silas’, who managed to escape the Loom’s collapse, carrying with him a single, perfectly preserved Anchor Glyph. His fate is unknown, but some believe he continues to observe, waiting for the right moment to re-weave the Loom.