The Sect of Strands claims that four strings of silk, each with the width of a single whisker, maintain the Cobalt Hive airborne. Their length would take two months’ journey for a spider to climb from one end to the other.

The School of the Spindle retorts that an even taller pillar of cobalt lies under our home, bearing our weight without flinching for the last hundred years.

Few know the truth. Those who do learned it by falling from our walkways, only to join the corpses in the Iron Sea soon after. Their knowledge, which could put an end to the century-old dispute, is forever lost in the tainted wastes below.

***

First Stitch

Never disobey your Parent, lest the Calling will consume you.

***

“Anubis!”

My legs stiffen, and my jaw releases a tiny white rabbit. The wounded animal scampers away into the brushes.

“Cease your games. The Unification is a day of worship, not amusement.”

Upon the voice’s command, my surroundings dissolve into colored pixels. I do not budge, eyes still locked on my prey. The rabbit hologram suffers the same fate, and the voice finally catches my attention.

“I have a sermon to deliver. Hurry up.”

I turn around, and meet an open palm. My gaze climbs the wrinkled skin and red silken robes, until a familiar Risen’s face appears. Mother Emilia’s blue eyes pierce my soul. Their reputation as weapons specialized for instilling discipline is not unfounded.

I obey her command, unwilling to endure her death stare any longer. My claws tinkle against the Hunting Room's cobalt flooring. My ears perk up at the sound.

Mother and I traverse the doorstep, and pass under the archways of metal decorating the Cocoon's hallways. Torchvines slither across the walls, illuminating our passage with an orange glimmer. Emilia slides her fingers across the plants’ bark, unbothered by its heat.

“Fireflies and ivies. A brilliant combination,” she says.

I nod. The Risen’s ability to walk upright without falling over still puzzles me.

We leave our personal apartments, and pass the doors to the Common Area. The sound of a stampede accumulates in my ears, as more and more Acolytes begin to walk behind us. Our small pilgrimage group becomes a menagerie featuring hundreds of animalkind delegates, their respective Risen Parents trailing behind. Mammals, reptiles, avians, amphibians, and even invertebrates squirm, slither, prowl and flutter in harmony. All bear the priceless gift of sapience.

With our congregation assembled, Mother speaks.

“At the final Unravelling, once all will be Unified, the Four Strands will release their weight at last. Our souls, immersed in the Nectar Pool, will be spared. Those who have answered the Calling will fall alongside the Hive, and drown in the Iron Sea, for nothing else holds the world aloft. Praise be to the Risen!’”

In response to Emilia’s prayer, a thunderous uproar shakes the crowd. Horses stomp the ground, swans ruffle their wings, and cicadas sing in unison. I join the choir with a howl. Praise be to the Risen for delivering us from the murkiness of non-sapience!

All Mothers and Fathers fall to their knees and place their hands together. Many fail to maintain this position for more than a few seconds. They instead use their fingers to wipe away teary eyes.

Emilia observes our spectacle in silence. She finally takes off her frown, and addresses the crowd one of her rare smiles. My Parent speaks again, invigorated by our demonstration of fervor.

“We cannot understand the Great Needlework’s design. A single thread cannot comprehend the tapestry in which it takes part. Today, this will change. In the Nectar Pool, we will discover what we have been knitting for the last hundred years.”