Chira was intrigued. Weaves were usually created from per-existing copies, by masters who have had their third awakening, that allowed them to become very sensitive to magical flow. Even among the masters who had the third awakening, few could create brand new weaves, most customized per-existing weaves to make it their own. Her master, in a rare introspective state, while drunk had once told her that if you asked anyone to draw an animal that did not exist, they would create a creature that was a patchwork of body parts of animals that existed around them. So it was with weaves. It would need a godly master to create something New with a capital N.

Here in front of her eyes were Soul weaves that were made by someone who could see weaves. It was original and at a godly grand-master level. They were not small restricted squiggly designs that were at best altered versions of natural weaves, but were free flowing patterns that flawlessly combined with each other to form something greater. She looked around in wonder like a child that had discovered a brand new and fascinating world. She became extremely curious as to the creator. Somewhere in a tiny corner of her brain a voice was waving red flags.

The ground under her rumbled as the power in the weaves around her grew more vigorous. It put an urgency to Chira’s steps. She paused, wondered if this was because of the weather. Whatever the reason she did not want to be buried alive in the tunnels, however fascinating they may be. Being buried once was enough. Small rocks and soil damp and moist started to rain intermittently, urging Chira to a hasty scramble and then a run. Something was nudging her mind and she absentmindedly wondered how she seemed to know where to go in the maze-like tunnels. But for some reason that thought seemed to slip out of her mind like water of a duck.

By now the glowing weave along the tunnel wall could be seen by anyone, even without the chaotic eyes. The magic pulsing through was strong enough to daze any one into a magic high. She realized that she was unconsciously moving toward the source of the tame magic. For Chira it felt like spiders crawling all over her, and she panted as she hurried toward the source of it all. It was either that or being buried alive. The tunnel widened and then let her to the largest atrium she had ever seen. The floor was more than a quarter mile in radius. She felt the largeness of the atrium in spite of her vision being blurred by the storm and rain and the light of weave patters. The rain pelting down on her made her realize that the atrium had no roof. She looked up and found that she had arrived at what was the bottom of a very large well. What appeared to be a hill on the outside, when she had entered a tunnel, had been hollowed out. The rocky inner walls of this well had shrubs and trees that swayed precariously in the violent weather. Impromptu waterfalls tripped and fell from the dark rocks before disappearing into invisible crevices. She looked further up at the sky and cringed as she realized that it was foolish to look to the sky charged with wild magic even when it rained

When she walked in the tunnels earlier, she had been puzzled about the intent of the weave formations. Now as she stood in the atrium she realized she had found the heart of the weave. From here she could feel the purpose of the whole weave. It was a trap!

The soul force that controlled the weave felt strange and powerful. She knew why her thoughts kept slipping and why she was not panicking. The magic behind …whatever this creature was, had an intent and a brain. Its intent had brought her here to the heart, without raising alarm. This weave had to have a powerful soul backing it. And the brain behind this large power was most probably up to no good. Yet even as her brain was trying to worry her with images of being crushed by giant rocks, or eaten by terrible plants, or torn apart by a vicious beast, her body did not seem to care. The heart did not pick up its pace, her lungs were at leisure as if she had just awoken from a refreshing sleep. And her arms and legs could not be bothered to go any were in a hurry. They were more inclined to melt in the magical tide that surrounded her.

Warm tame magic engulfed her and drowned her to the point of intoxication. The weave was meant to tame wild magic. The tame magic strong enough to intoxicate even the Jara, the largest lizard of the desert. It was meant to subdue the largest and meanest of prey.

Someone as puny as Chira had no chance in escaping this trap. At this point the what, and the why’s were blown out of her brain by the sensation of the intoxication. Her whole body was filled to the brim in magic, a feeling she had never felt before in her life, ever! Even with her eyes closed she could see the world as if through the chaotic eyes.

Her eyes came back to the center of the atrium, that was festively lit by the weaves. Four grotesque statues representing the four elements of the world towered over her as they were chained together by a sculptural representation of the weave held by the goddess in the center. This was the story of creation.

It was one of the earliest stories Chira heard as a child. The four great Elements once rampaged the Kunj (world) in their aspects. Fire in the fiery aspect of a Hrid – A lion like being with paws of a bear, the size of a mountain with mane of flaming lava. Water in the aspect of gigantic sea serpent Nala, with poison flowing through its body swallowing up lands. Air in the aspect of a pair typhoon eagles Dham and Dhadar and earth in the aspect of a gigantic Kunjara -the giant Elephantine lizard with scales so thick, there was nothing that could pierce through it; who’s every stomp caused the earth to quake. In order to contain violent elemental aspects, the Mother god wove magic that was all around and captured the elements in her weave. She bound the violent forces of nature by the intent of her soul. Legend has it that all living creatures contain within them the essence of the 4 elements weaved together by magic of the soul.

When the end of the world happened, all living things would die and the 4 elements would once again be free. Free to rampage the world.

The statues vibrated as the tunnels nearby collapsed. They were now lit by a fiery orange yellow of the heart of the weave that was dynamic and bursting with power. In spite of the magical intoxication a part of her brain was trying to gain her attention with existentialism. The powerful weave that was bloated because of absorbing too much of raw magic from magical storm, could burst forth any time causing the atrium to collapse and be buried in a rock slide. There would be no escape as the tunnels behind and around her would most probably collapse

When had she fallen into the trap of the creature that created this weave? Exactly how big was the influence of this weave? Had it been the reason she got out of the river? Its influence had been so subtle that she had not even noticed! Had she unconsciously gravitated to this place in spite of the wandering? Even now she realized that her instincts were suppressed to the point of nonexistence. Her body was in a state of bliss and her mind weaved between alarm and apathy. More importantly the pendent around her neck seemed at bliss.

Well at least she had clarity of thought, she reasoned. Well clarity was relative Chira realized, because if she were truly clear she would be bolting from here both physically and mentally and not stumbling to the heart of the weave like her body was doing. The odd rocks and tree stumps that littered the floor and created shadows in the constant lightning the storm brought, now appeared to be skulls or rib cages of strange beasts. Her thoughts still. Would this be her fate soon?