Time has declared war on us. The first shears split Lisbon's night sky like silver wounds, and hours bled into streets; then came the predators that fed on duration itself. Yet the rifts also awakened a rare faculty in a few of us, a knack for catching and knotting stray seconds—a way to fight back. Each dawn, new Looms flare open above deserts, subways, and seas, leading into corridors where history buckles, bristling with artifacts and perilous bounty. If you are a Weaver, your city needs you. The planet needs you. Take the thread. Hold the line.
Sahana Rao is a Weaver. A decade ago she taught orbital mechanics at IIT Madras and argued about jazz with her wife in a Chennai flat. The Collapse tore both apart. Now she works for the United Temporal Authority out of the Kerguelen Anchor, diving Looms to recover chronal alloys, seedtime medicines, and maps of broken causality. Two kids in Coimbatore, one elderly tabby, visas, tuition, a leaking roof...Risk calc became routine. She has stepped through humming frames a hundred times, wrapped in Faraday lace and inertia gel. This run goes wrong. The Loom spits her into Aion Null—a maze of stalled thunderstorms and fossilized footfalls—cut off from her team. Her only companion is Koda, a skittish Belgian Malinois rescued from an Osaka spindle-yard. Together they must read the knots of the Null and walk them back out, because Sahana promised Meera and Dev she would return. The shape of tomorrow depends on it.
