I am the weaver. I have always been the weaver. Before the first breath, before the touch of the sun and the stir of the earth beneath my feet, I was. I was the pull and twist of thread, the knot and untying, the moments that unfurled and twisted and curved through infinity, like the very fibers of the world itself. Time, I have learned, is not a straight path but a weave—a pattern that loops and spirals and braids itself, each thread touching and pulling the others, binding and unbinding in ways that none of us can always see. I have no form, not now. Not as you know it. I am part of the Source, the force that threads the realms together, the Keeper of the Veil. I am the weaver. And though you cannot see me, I am the one who binds you.