The Voidweaver Saga (eBook)

She wasn't meant to exist. Now she's the only one who can rewrite everything

Bilal Salman (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
245 Seiten
Publishdrive (Verlag)
978-0-00-112726-5 (ISBN)

Infos

In a world bound by silence, one girl becomes the fracture that changes everything.

Kaela was never meant to exist. Born outside the Grid's design, erased before she could take her first breath, she should have been nothing more than absence. But hidden away, she survived-marked by a strange black-gold light that made her both hunted and feared.

When the Grid tightens its grip, devouring voices and weaving humanity into its perfect silence, Kaela rises from the shadows. Haunted by the souls she could not save, torn between defiance and despair, she must lead a march of the broken and the brave into the very heart of the enemy that created her.

The journey is not only through labyrinths of living stone and storms of screaming threads, but through her own doubt and grief. Every step brings revelations that cut deeper than any blade: why she was erased, why Balance was never meant to exist, and what it will cost to unmake the silence.

With Azrah's fire, Solas's blade, and a people who refuse to scatter, Kaela stands against a storm of voices older than memory. To break the Grid, she must bend silence itself-knowing that victory may demand her final breath.

Epic, visceral, and unforgettable, The Voidweaver Saga is a tale of courage, loss, and the unyielding power of choice. A story about voices that refuse to be erased, about threads that weave together even when broken, and about how even in the darkest silence, one spark can set the world alight.

Textauszug

Chapter 1

 

 

Kaela had been born into a woven world, yet no thread ever claimed her. No halo circled her head, no shimmering fate marked her steps, and no invisible line tied her to memory, gravity, or even time. In the eyes of the Threadgrid—the vast living network that mapped every life—she simply did not exist.

For twelve years, she moved through Caldrith as though she were air. The world passed around her, eyes sliding past her without pause, as if her body were only a shadow caught between one heartbeat and the next. She was not despised, not shunned—only forgotten. An absence, overlooked and unacknowledged, until the silence that followed her became part of her skin.

Tonight she perched on the railing of an old signal tower, one of the rusted skeletons clinging to the city’s outer rings. The metal beneath her boots groaned as she swung her legs out over the hundred-meter drop. Far below, the city pulsed like a living organism, threads of light weaving between towers, skylanes flowing in orderly rivers of illumination. Every rooftop shimmered with anchored halos, every streetline alive with braided currents that guided people toward lives already charted.

The air smelled of metal and ozone, tinged with the faint spice of threadburn that leaked from overloaded conduits. Above, driftships glided along aurora streams, their hulls glimmering with symbols written in woven light. Each vessel followed an exact pattern: precise, harmonious, flawless. All of Caldrith moved according to the Grid’s design, the citizens humming within it like insects inside glass.

Kaela lifted her hand and stretched her fingers toward one of the aurora trails. The luminous current brushed past her skin without acknowledgment, recoiling as if offended by her presence. A ship thundered close overhead, engines rumbling deep enough to vibrate the tower beneath her. Sensors should have blared at such proximity. Instead, the vessel continued undisturbed, its pilots unaware that a girl sat within arm’s reach of their path.

She had grown used to being unseen. Still, the weight of it pressed on her tonight more heavily than usual. The silence wasn’t the peaceful kind, not the soft blanket she sometimes wrapped herself in when the world’s patterns felt too sharp. This silence gnawed at her, filling her lungs with something colder than air.

Threadless meant unseen. Untouched. Unwanted.

She survived in seams—the places the Grid forgot. She knew the taste of dust in abandoned rail tunnels, the bitter tang of iron in water dripping from ceilings. She had slept in the husks of prayer towers, their broken windows filtering moonlight like fractured jewels, the scent of charred incense still clinging to stone. She had hidden in old signal nodes where static hummed faintly through corroded wires, a constant reminder of systems that once mattered but were now ignored.

Kaela had learned to love these broken places, because they made no pretense of being whole.

Yet tonight, the air itself felt different.

It began as a vibration inside her chest, so subtle she almost mistook it for her own heartbeat. Then it deepened, resonating against her ribs like a pulled string stretched too tight. The night wind shifted direction abruptly, cold air cutting across her skin in the wrong rhythm. Overhead, a flock of birds froze mid-flight, their wings suspended unnaturally before they blinked out of existence—only to reappear meters away, their cries sharp with confusion.

Kaela gripped the railing, her breath caught in her throat. The vibration spread across her body. For the first time in her life, she felt something touch her.

A thread.

It brushed her wrist, so faint it might have been static. Her eyes widened, her chest tightening. Another slid across the back of her neck. A third traced her spine, shivering along her nerves as though searching for a way inside.

She staggered to her feet, the old tower creaking beneath her weight. The sky above convulsed. Auroras writhed like torn fabric, their colors unraveling into jagged strands of silver and violet. Light cascaded downward in ribbons too ordered to be natural, humming with patterns she had no words for.

Threads. Dozens. Hundreds. Not hers—she had none. These belonged to something else. And they were not binding her. They were probing, testing, hunting.

Kaela’s knees buckled. She dropped hard onto the rusted platform, palms scraping against flakes of iron. Her breath came fast and shallow, every inhale sharp with the taste of metal.

The heavens tore open.

Light bled down in streams of woven brilliance, flooding the tower in silent radiance. The patterns shifted faster than her eyes could follow, arcs and loops twisting into symbols that hurt to look at. And through the burning silence came a voice, not heard with her ears but pressed into the air around her, cold and absolute:

“Threadless detected. Sector D-31. Anomaly confirmed.”

Her chest locked. She should have run, but the instinct never reached her muscles. Instead, she knelt there, frozen by something far stronger than fear.

Because the moment the threads touched her, something deep inside her stirred.

It was not recognition. It was not memory. It was revelation.

A pattern she had never known surged into being behind her eyes. Her fingers trembled, then rose of their own accord, reaching for a single thread that descended toward her like a blade suspended in air. She touched it, expecting to be pulled in, consumed, rewritten.

Instead, her hand moved with a certainty that terrified her.

And she cut it.

The thread unraveled in a flare of impossible light, falling apart in a shower of dust that never reached the ground.

The sky convulsed. Auroras fractured into jagged lines, colors snapping and twisting as though the entire weave had seized. Far below, the city’s rhythm stuttered, skylanes dimming mid-flight, buildings flickering as though caught between memory and forgetfulness.

For a heartbeat, the entire world seemed to stop breathing.

And Kaela realized the truth with bone-deep clarity:

The Grid had found her.

And she had broken it.

 

The thread should have recoiled, snapping back into the sky and sealing the tear as the Grid reset itself. That was how order worked—always reweaving, always correcting. But it didn’t.

The strand she had severed hung limp in the air, glowing faintly like a dying filament before disintegrating into drifting dust that faded before it touched the steel beneath her. Kaela stared at the empty space where it had been, chest rising and falling too fast, her skin prickling as though her body hadn’t yet caught up with what her hand had done.

Around her, the silence pressed heavier than the dark. Caldrith was never silent. The city was a living machine, its harmony measured by the rhythm of a billion interwoven threads. Even in the dead hours, skylanes hummed, towers whispered with data-light, and the air itself vibrated with the pulse of fate. But here—now—there was nothing.

No alarms. No flare of defense lattice sweeping the skyline. No ripple of containment protocols locking the district.

The Grid should have noticed. It always noticed.

Her fingers shook as she pulled them back to her chest, half-expecting the air to seize her wrist in punishment. But nothing came. Only the groan of the tower’s old metal as it adjusted to her movement, a sound too ordinary to belong in this moment.

The wind did not return. The flock of birds never circled back. Even time seemed reluctant to resume, as though the world had inhaled sharply and forgotten how to exhale.

Then, a whisper crawled through her skull.

Not spoken. Not sound.

A command. A pulse inside her bones.

Cut it. She’s not a blank. She’s a breach. Mark her. Track her. Contain her.

Kaela’s breath caught in her throat. She had not heard the words—she had felt them. They vibrated against the threads she did not have, as though someone had tried to write their orders directly into her absence.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. No. No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. If the Grid was inside her head, then she wasn’t invisible anymore. She was exposed. Seen. Hunted.

She ran.

Her boots rang out against the steel, the sharp sound startling in the stillness. She darted down the spiral staircase that clung to the tower’s edge, each step echoing like a hammer on metal, each exhale hot in her throat. The taste of rust filled her mouth as she pushed herself faster, lungs burning. She didn’t know where she was going, only that stillness was death.

Above her, the sky cracked again.

A sudden flare tore through the auroras, spiraling outward in coded bursts. Kaela skidded to a stop in the rail yard at the tower’s base, her head snapping upward. Symbols blazed across the air in lines of woven fire, precise and merciless.

THREADWEAVER DETECTED
STATUS: UNMAPPED
PRIORITY: IMMEDIATE INTERVENTION

Her blood turned to ice. The flare wasn’t just a warning. It was a beacon.

She sprinted toward the fence line, lungs tearing with every breath. Beyond the rail yard stretched a forgotten subway tunnel, black and yawning where the city’s weave had long abandoned it. The old tracks glinted faintly in the half-light, thick with dust and webs, the smell of damp stone rising from below like the breath of something buried. No one went there. No one mapped it. Which made it the only place left for her.

Kaela ducked under a bent steel beam and dove into the tunnel’s shadow, the sharp...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 21.12.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Romane / Erzählungen
• ISBN-10: 0-00-112726-8 / 0001127268
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-112726-5 / 9780001127265