The darkness behind the door wasn't emptiness.
It was memory not yet remembered.
As I stepped in, the chamber lit itself. Not with flame or electricity— but with presence.
Threads lined the walls. They glowed in different hues: Gold for joy. Blue for sorrow. Red for trauma. White for memory I hadn't yet earned.
And at the center of the chamber was a loom.
But not one built by hands. It was alive—shaped of symbols, breath, and silence.
Waiting.
---
The realm spoke—not as a voice, but as a storm of meaning:
"You have entered the heart of the Witness Gate."
"Here, all paths converge. All truths are born. All power is chosen."
And with those words, the loom awakened.
A wheel turned. A thread rose from my chest—soft, trembling, and undeniably me.
"You seek power. Understand first what it is."
The chamber formed images:
The garden of broken threads.
The Falsekeeper and its faces.
The laughter I erased.
The Sigil I forged.
"Witness Resonance is not energy. Not might."
"It is your soul's ability to recall, reshape, and rewrite truth through memory."
"The stronger the memory, the deeper the resonance."
"But resonance must be threaded." "Unthreaded memories fester. Break you. Consume you."
---
* The Six Known Stages of Witness Resonance:
1. The First Glimpse — Passive memory resurfacing. Visions of things never lived.
2. Echo Recovery — Regaining forgotten people, futures, or truths.
3. Thread Weaving — Fusing memory into reality. Forming Sigils to channel memory.
4. Sigil Projection (yet to be learned) — Externalizing a memory as a force or tool.
5. Memory Anchor (rare) — Making truth unerasable, bound to the world itself.
6. Existential Threading (myth) — Creating new reality from pure resonance.
---
The loom spun faster. And I was shown worlds.
A war where nations fought over memories made tangible. A field where truth walked like beasts. A library that housed emotions as books.
"This is the Witness Realm's origin."
"But it bleeds into the world you left."
"You will return. But it will not be the same."
I saw the Earth again—familiar cities, forgotten ruins. Only now, memories hovered in their skies like stars.
People could see echoes. Monuments bent around grief. Technology shaped by what people chose to remember.
The Gate… had awakened something.
"You are not alone now, Lyan." "Others will remember. Others will fight. Others will forget."
"But you are the First Weaver."
---
The chamber dimmed. The loom folded into thread. And that thread entered my body.
Not as power. But as right.
"You may leave the Witness Gate," the realm said. "But it will never leave you."
A new door formed. This time, of stone and silence.
I stepped toward it. And paused.
I looked back.
Not at the chamber. But at who I was before I entered.
"I was a builder seeking a way out of failure." "Now I am a weaver seeking a way through truth."
The door opened. Light poured in.
Not just light—world.
And I stepped into it.
---