Narrative Threats to the Pattern
"The Pattern doesn't unravel because someone cuts it. It unravels when the weaver falters"
Most threats to reality come with teeth, titles, or tragic backstories.
These do not.
These are not villains.
They are not monsters.
They are not even properly things.
They are interruptions.
Gaps.
Glitches.
Whispers.
They are what happens when the Loom forgets what it was weaving—or when the one behind it can’t bring themselves to pick up the Thread again.
Some say the Pattern contains them.
Some say the Pattern creates them.
But I know this: they aren’t from a Realm. They’re from the places where Realms collapse. The margins. The smudges. The moments of narrative failure given shape.
We call them Enemies of the Loom.
Not because they hate it.
But because they don’t believe it matters.
Thread-Eaters
They don’t kill. They erase.
You won’t find bones. Just gaps. Blankness. Names you used to know.
Thread-Eaters devour resonance. They remove significance. They delete.
When a Thread is swallowed by one, even the Pattern forgets it existed.
Only the Inn sometimes remembers—and even then, it can’t always say what was lost.
Symptoms of proximity:
- Forgotten names
- Unwritten dreams
- Friends you swear existed yesterday, but no one else recalls
Snarlbeasts
Born from narrative contradiction and too many revisions.
They manifest when a Thread is pulled in too many incompatible directions and frays violently inward.
Snarlbeasts are tangled stories turned inward on themselves—existential migraines with claws.
They don't chase. They entangle.
Most common near failed prophecies, paradox loops, and very determined protagonists.
The Hollowdark
Not a creature. Not a Realm.
Just… absence.
The Hollowdark is where resonance fails completely.
Where the Pattern folds in on itself and nothing remains. No dream. No meaning. No you.
You don’t fall into it.
You drift.
Slowly. Quietly. Until you’re gone.
Things born in the Hollowdark are not evil.
They are indifferent.
They have never been shaped by story, and therefore have no use for yours.
The Whispers Beyond the Pattern
They come when you start asking questions you shouldn’t.
When you doubt the Inn is real.
When you stop believing your Thread was ever worth pulling.
The Whispers are not lies.
They are convincing alternatives.
They rewrite not with force, but with suggestion. They tell you the story is wrong—and if you listen long enough, the Pattern starts to agree.
Symptoms include:
- Narrative drift
- Chronic doubt
- The creeping certainty that you’ve read this before, but it ended differently
Why This Matters
These threats are not from outside the story.
They are from within.
They are what happens when the Thread weakens.
When the one weaving it falters.
When belief, direction, and clarity give way to hesitation.
In this setting, they manifest as:
- Forgotten Realms
- Dead gods who never lived
- Memory gaps in the Library
- Pages that refuse to stay written
- Patrons who vanish mid-sentence
The One in the Backroom’s Opinion
He doesn’t speak of them.
But when he goes missing, they tend to follow.
Some say he’s fighting them.
Some say he’s avoiding them.
I think… I think he’s rewriting them.
One at a time. Quietly. Desperately.
Because if he doesn’t, the Inn might forget him, too.
At A Glance
What Are They?
Not creatures. Not Realms. Not gods. These are narrative failures made manifest—where the Loom loses coherence.
Thread-Eaters
They don’t kill. They erase. Devour significance, memory, meaning. After them, only silence—and the certainty something is missing.
Snarlbeasts
Born from contradiction. Fractured stories that turn on themselves. Manifest in paradox, prophecy failure, or overwritten Threads.
The Hollowdark
The absence of narrative. Where resonance fails. Where nothing dreams, and the world forgets to matter.
The Whispers
Insidious doubt. Questions that unravel Threads. They do not lie. They suggest. And the Pattern listens.
Why It Matters
These aren’t villains. They’re what happens when belief fails. When writing stops. When purpose falters. The Inn remembers. Barely.
Margin Note, Unfiled:
These are not just cosmological phenomena. They are metaphors for burnout, silence, and the fear your story doesn’t matter. The One in the Backroom wrote them down because he needed to believe they could be faced. Seraphis copied them because she knows they’re real. The rest of us? We’re just hoping they stay quiet.
Excellent! I really like the concept and the way you expressed it!
Thankyou for the kind words :)