The golden light inside Sabharangam shifted slowly as the afternoon deepened.
The Cradle trials and the Thread Resonance Duels had completed, replaced by a quieter tension that seemed to settle gently across the vast hall. Now the Craft Section B students stood ready.
Fifty of them waited across the marble floor of the Sabharangam Castle, their expressions somewhat steadier than the younger children who had walked before them. Their threads shimmered faintly around them — some calm, some restless, some burning with quiet determination.
The Headmistress stepped forward once more, the thread-lantern in her hands glowing softly.
"Craft Section B students," she announced, her voice echoing gently beneath the high golden ceiling.
"You have learned to move your threads. Today, you must learn to build with them."
As the Headmistress completed the statement, the children and the Craft Section B students began to ponder and wonder about the thing they were supposed to build.
As they pondered the mystery, the tall doors of Sabharangam opened, and beyond them lay a new chamber.
Sister Uma and two other Inimainashi Sisters led the Craft Section B students into the new chamber.
As they entered, the children witnessed a majestic spectacle.
It was vast and circular, its floor divided into twenty-five glowing zones traced by faint silver thread-lines. Each circle shimmered like a quiet constellation upon the polished stone.
At the center of every zone floated an unfinished sculpture of threadlight.
Some resembled skeletal birds with half-formed wings.
Some were fragments of animals waiting to emerge from silver strands.
Others looked like spiraling trees or twisting ribbons of light that had paused midway through creation.
A murmur spread among the students, mixed with excitement and nervousness.
Sister Uma raised her hand gently.
"This trial is called The Puzzle of Destiny," she said.
Her golden threads drifted through the air like a slow breath of wind.
"You will work in pairs. Each pair will enter one zone and complete the unfinished thread sculpture before you."
She paused, looking at the children, then said gently but with a little firmness,
"But remember this carefully — the sculpture must not only be beautiful. The thread figure should hold."
"If your threads clash, the structure will collapse."
The students exchanged glances.
This was not a race.
This was patience.
Pairs were assigned by the Kazan Weavers again through the Thread-Chit Box, and soon the chamber filled with quiet movement as students stepped into the glowing circles.
In one zone, Sairi and Rei studied a fragile silver bird whose wings were only faint outlines of threadlight.
Nearby, Lian and Miko faced the skeletal frame of a tiger woven from sharp strands of silver.
Across the chamber, Arven and Yura stood before a towering spiral that resembled the trunk of a great tree still waiting for branches.
As the students took their positions in the glowing circles, the Headmistress lifted her lantern.
Sister Uma in the chamber echoed,
"Begin."
The chamber erupted into motion as a greenish-pink rectangular thread-like structure appeared and gave a massive glow that showed:
20:00 MINUTES
Soon it started counting down.
19:59… 19:58…
Sister Uma added,
"Oh yes, children, do note that the task must be done within that countdown time."
Threads of green, amber, blue, and violet stretched outward as dozens of students began weaving carefully around the floating sculptures.
Sairi moved first.
Her amber threads extended slowly toward the bird's fragile wings.
"Careful," she whispered.
Rei nodded and guided his tangish threads along the outer edges, reinforcing the shape without disturbing the delicate balance.
The bird flickered once and then steadied.
Elsewhere, the tiger sculpture trembled violently as Arven attempted to shape its body too quickly. His threads vibrated violently and did not resonate well with Yura.
"Slow down!" Yura called.
"Steady the threads, Arven."
Arven replied,
"Well, you should also try to match my thread resonance. You are too slow. The time might run out."
But the threads had already tangled.
With a brittle crack of light, the sculpture shattered into drifting fragments.
Both students froze.
The fragments dissolved quietly.
They would have to begin again.
Yura said with disappointment,
"See, now we have to start all over again. If we move the thread resonance too fast, it is going to break."
Across the chamber, the trial unfolded like a living tapestry.
A crane stretched radiant wings across one circle.
A silver fox formed slowly in another.
A towering tree of delicate branches shimmered upward in a third.
But many attempts failed.
The threads clashed.
Structures collapsed.
Some students paused, studying their mistakes before weaving again.
High above the chamber, the Peak Section and the Forge Section galleries watched the spectacle in silence.
Tamara leaned against the railing.
Golden threads shimmered faintly around her wrists.
"They're learning to listen," she murmured.
Beside her, Kodo watched the chamber below.
"They're learning that building is harder than fighting."
Tamara's lips curved faintly.
Tom said,
"Oh, words of wisdom. I like that, Kodo."
Across the gallery, in the shadow of a distant pillar, Eiroh stood alone, his arms folded.
His expression remained unreadable, though still a little shaken by the previous situation as he thought about the Sisters thwarting his crimson threads away.
Eiroh thought to himself,
As if I will give up. I am making a name for myself among the Noolzai, and then the Commander will accept me into his elite ranks.
Below them, the chamber continued glowing with motion.
For the briefest instant, a thin crimson filament flickered through one of the zones.
So faint that almost no one noticed.
But Tamara did, and her golden threads flared.
Kodo felt it too.
Their eyes shifted across the chamber.
The crimson strand vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
The sculpture below stabilized again.
Nothing seemed wrong.
Yet Kodo's expression hardened.
"He's here again. Doesn't he ever give up?" he murmured.
Tamara's gaze moved slowly toward the far side of the gallery.
Eiroh had not moved. His arms were still folded.
His eyes watched the chamber calmly.
Below them, the final sculptures began to settle.
A radiant eagle stretched its wings in one circle.
A silver stag lifted its antlers toward the chamber ceiling.
A great tree shimmered softly with hundreds of thread-leaves.
When the weaving ended, the Headmistress stepped forward once more.
Her lantern rose gently.
Above the chamber, the completed sculptures floated upward.
Out of the twenty-five thread sculptures attempted that afternoon, seventeen rose complete and radiant, glowing like quiet constellations above the hall.
The remaining forms dimmed where structures had collapsed or failed to stabilize.
Thirty-four students stepped forward with steady threads.
Sixteen remained behind, their unfinished designs dissolving softly into light as they looked on with embarrassment, heads hung low, and some even cried as their unfinished figures faded away.
Sister Uma said in a gentle tone to the sixteen children,
"Yes, they faded away, but like constellations, they are looking at you all to create them again next time with all your heart and soul in the next trial."
As she said this, her gentle pink threads surrounded the children, easing those who sobbed a little.
Tiny mossy green threads began to emanate from them.
"Yes, Sister… we will do our best," some of them said as they looked up.
"Wait for us, constellations," a few whispered with small smiles.
And the whole Sabharangam smiled gently along with them.
And so, Sister Uma and the other Inimainashi Sisters led the Craft Section B students from the chamber back into the Sabharangam hall of the castle, where the afternoon sunrays gleamed through, casting their radiance upon the marble floors.
Upon the podium, the Headmistress looked across them all, with the Madhabucho and the other faculties looking on.
"Industry," she said gently, "is not the strength to begin."
"It is the strength to continue weaving, even when your first design falls apart."
The balconies of Sabharangam filled with warm applause.
Because in the Puzzle of Destiny, every thread had tried to become something greater than itself.
And somewhere beneath the quiet glow of the Kazan trial, a hidden crimson thread had begun to move again.