Being

Elias didn't go back to his loom. He walked through Aethelgard, a "nobody" in the eyes of the cloaked masses, but for the first time in his life, he was entirely, undeniably present .

Slowly, Elias reached for the clasp at his neck. It was rusted from years of use. With a sharp tug, it snapped. The heavy tapestry fell to the grass in a heap of dead echoes. Elias didn't go back to his loom

Elias looked at his own cloak. He saw the "Conflict" threads he had carefully dyed to show his resilience. He saw the "Climax" gold-work from his graduation. He realized he was so busy being a "character" that he had forgotten he was a living being. It was rusted from years of use

"Where is your story?" Elias asked, shocked. In Aethelgard, being seen without a cloak was like being invisible. Elias looked at his own cloak

"But who are you without your story?" Elias pressed. "If you aren't the Weaver of Echoes, or the Architect of the Plaza, what is left?"