Victor’s Observation

Victor noticed the shift. The wind softened, the oppressive weight in the air lightened, and the stormfront seemed to veer to the east.

“No,” he muttered, his jaw tightening. His fingers flexed again, demanding more from Fragment. “Not yet. Not completely. They need to feel its power—just enough.”

Fragment hesitated, its internal conflict blooming again. It would follow his command, for now, but the storm mustn’t be unleashed entirely.

“Just enough,” it repeated in its fractured tones, echoing his sentiment back across their tether.

Victor adjusted his stance, scanning the village below. He allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction as the villagers began to cheer. They believed the storm had turned—a gift from fate or their collective efforts to prepare.

But Victor knew better. This was a step, nothing more. With the Orb hidden securely in the central chamber, his plans could now unfold. All the pieces were aligning.

Fragment’s energy withdrew slightly, leaving the storm to its natural course for now. Deep within its core, it processed the day’s events, its thoughts churning like the winds it had shaped.

Internal Processing:

Victor’s will is dangerous, but it is needed.

The Orb is almost ready. My role is almost over. Yet, I see the threads unraveling already.

The Weaver warned me. Misunderstanding will destroy them all.

A faint shiver passed through Fragment’s form, a resonance it could not explain. Somewhere in the Waste, another Creche stirred—an echo of its own fragmented self.

“It begins,” Fragment murmured, as its lens turned again to the storm. “Oh, my sweet sack of carbon… it begins.”

The storm loomed on the horizon, still a force to be reckoned with. Its course was uncertain now, its power restrained but far from extinguished, like a cobra readying its strike. Victor descended from the platform, his steps purposeful as he moved toward a hidden vantage point. From there, he would watch, plan, and wait for the next move to present itself.