To Anyone, Beware the Times - Intermission

Poor girl. Consumed by her own endeavors, she had unknowingly abandoned those she treasured, and paid the price for her negligence.

But alas, that was life. You thought something would go one way, only for it to go somewhere completely unexpected. For better or for worse? What determined who experienced which is a mystery even I am unable to solve, but I’m convinced to believe it all results from chance – as anticlimactic as it sounds.

Some faced despair like Isolde, others found joy like Yohan, even in darkness. There’d be those at fate’s crossroads as Roe, or people with destinations entirely unknown, like Madigan and Steph. Even I am subject to this roll of dice. After all, I never predicted I would disappear from existence. Yet here I am, fading away to nothingness…

But since I find little value in expressing my own plight, myself being just a glowing core of thread, I won’t complain too much. Onward to my people, the stories I want to share.

These were the beginnings of struggle. The first 50 days had its problems, but they couldn’t compare to the next, or the next after that. So many ways in which they died – be it starvation, torn apart by raiding anomalies, or murderous storms of lightning. I gained a good deal of thread for Limbo in those days, so much that it would have slowed the recession…

If it weren’t for her. Out of everyone who used to be alive, she disappointed me the most – yet just like the rest of her kind, she was a mistake I created. Unfortunately, I can’t absolve myself of the blame. That being said, it sickens me to dwell on her soulless nature for too long, so to know what she did… You’ll have to find out later on.

Besides, she wasn’t the only source of division.

The Elders would gather in the Halls less frequently. They were supposed to be a place of unity, and in a world that had become survival of the fittest, such concepts were no longer natural to uphold. Every tribe for themselves, they said. There were some, primarily Guardians, who tried to maintain harmony, insisting the bond of the tribes could overcome any disaster… But again and again, they were proven incorrect.

It even spread to the ordinary citizens, disruptive Weavers and Fliers immigrating in mass only contributing to tensions. Not only that, there was also the inevitable integration of the “commons” and tribespeople, which exploded into intolerance. It was tribes versus tribes, and simultaneously, tribes versus the commons… A confusing dynamic, yet increasingly prevalent.

But such events have yet to be told, so speaking of…

Where were we?

I will resume on the morning that marked the first day of the seventh month from recession. Ironically, it was the start of spring. But unlike the thousands of springs that had come before, my threads were no longer able to form anything new. No births, neither from humans or animals, and no growing plants. The only greenery remaining was those in areas where the seasons didn’t change – like Visea, or scattered spots in Sections 2 and 3.

Rather than be the start of returning life, spring was a vessel for the end.