The last guardian: Rise of Ethan Wilson

"When fate breaks, so does memory."

Above the blue and green marble of Earth, Calyx the Unweaver drifted like a wisp of smoke caught in a gathering storm. Her movements were fluid, eerily graceful — a dance of silk and shadow weaving through the void.

Her fingers, pale and slender like frozen reeds, traced invisible strands across the fabric of time itself — delicate filaments that bound past, present, and future in a fragile, trembling tapestry.

In those threads shimmered every choice, every moment of possibility. Each a fragile pulse, waiting to be shattered.

Behind her eyes, a storm raged — millions of flickering visions of Ethan Wilson. Versions of him fractured and broken, scattered across the infinite multiverse:

One Ethan, a lonely child crushed beneath unbearable grief, lost to despair. Another, erased entirely, his light snuffed out before it could ever shine.

A cold, hissing whisper slithered through the cosmic void.

"Begin the cut."

Pain's voice. Less a sound than a shadow woven into the stars themselves.

A faint, cruel smile curved Calyx's lips.

"Let's make him forget why he fights."

And without hesitation, she stepped forward — slipping between realities, swallowing the light itself, vanishing like a nightmare folded inside a dream.

Inside the Avengers' training chamber, the air was alive with motion — webs shot through space, a symphony of blows and parries as Ethan and Spider-Man fought a fierce dance of agility and power.

But then — silence.

Not just a pause, but a brutal absence. The air itself seemed to vanish. No sound. No gravity. No breath.

Instead, the space filled with shimmering threads of light — countless filaments glowing faintly, pulsing like veins of a fractured universe.

Each thread was a memory, a choice, a life. Fragile. Vulnerable.

Doctor Strange stood frozen in the center, eyes wide and unblinking, dread curling like smoke in his chest.

"She's here."

From a jagged tear in the dimension, Calyx stepped forth — serene, cold, unfeeling.

"I've come to unmake."

Ethan's fingers curled around the hilt of his celestial blade. It sang with golden light, hungry for battle.

"You won't touch them."

Her smile was a shard of ice.

"I already have."

The air warped around Doctor Strange like a dying star.

His steps faltered, unsteady. His once-bright eyes clouded, as if a compass shattered within his mind.

He looked at Ethan, confusion and pain swirling like a storm in his gaze.

"Who... are you?"

Ethan's heart seized tight — a knife twisting in invisible wounds.

"Stephen — it's me. Ethan."

Strange blinked rapidly, grasping at memories that slipped like smoke through his fingers.

"I know that name... I think... I—"

Calyx's voice cut through the silence — silk snapping against bone.

"Unweaving complete: Phase 1. Sorcerer Supreme will soon forget magic."

Ethan's wings flared bright, gold fire scorching the air.

"You—!"

But the glowing threads whipped out, entangling his blade. It stopped mid-swing, bound by invisible chains.

Calyx moved like a shadow between timelines — untouchable, omnipresent.

"You fight like someone who believes the future is solid."

She slashed through the air, and a memory—Ethan's first kiss with Natalie—shimmered, then flickered out like a dying star.

Vanished.

Far from the chaos, deep within Rick's multiversal bunker, Natalie fought against a different kind of storm.

Her breath was ragged, fingers trembling as they gripped a humming holographic pulse dagger — the weapon newly forged with Rick's grudging guidance.

"You're slow," Rick's gruff voice cut the tension. "You're emotional. But damn, you've got heart."

Morty peeked out from behind a crate.

"Yeah! Unless you die in the next week, you're pretty cool!"

Natalie's jaw clenched, determination sharpening like steel.

"I have to protect him... even if he forgets me."

Rick's usual sarcasm faded, replaced with something rare and sincere.

"Then we train until you break."

Back at Stark Tower, Spider-Man's webs shot toward Calyx — delicate silk threads shot like arrows.

But each strand unraveled mid-flight — brittle and weak against her presence.

Ethan fought with the fury of a tempest — every strike bursting with celestial power.

But each blow passed through her like smoke, ghostlike and intangible.

She was everywhere and nowhere at once — a living shadow flickering between seconds and possibilities.

Her gaze shifted, sharp and cold, settling on Tony Stark.

"Fate Thread: Inventor. Prideful. Martyr. Future: Death by sacrifice."

Tony's skin drained of color, the words slicing through him like knives.

Her slender finger curved, poised to sever the thread.

"Let's rewrite it."

Ethan screamed, lunging between them.

The thread snapped across his back — a white-hot burn.

A future slipped through his fingers.

Vanished.

Across endless realities, Natalie froze — mid-motion, mid-breath.

A gasp tore from her throat as a precious memory flickered and dimmed.

Her fourteenth birthday — rain dripping on cracked pavement, Ethan walking beside her, holding a broken watch.

"I'd stop time if it meant staying beside you."

The words faded, the moment slipping away like mist.

She dropped the dagger, voice trembling, barely audible.

"...Ethan?"

With Strange fading, Stark gripped by panic, and timelines unraveling like fragile silk, Ethan's fury ignited — a sun burning inside his chest.

He whispered the command, voice steady, fierce, almost desperate.

[Initiate Celestial Pulse — Level 500 Override]

Golden wings erupted, blazing against the dark void.

Time slowed, the shimmering threads bending and twisting around him.

With a blinding flash —

Calyx was cast from reality's edge.

But her voice lingered — a deadly promise carried on the wind.

"Next time, I unweave her first."

Strange lay collapsed, eyes vacant and glassy.

Stark stared numbly at a flickering hologram — a future erased.

Spider-Man trembled, uncertain, scared.

And Ethan — broken, raw — stumbled to a quiet chamber, sank to his knees, and let silent tears fall.

Something was gone.

A thread severed in the tapestry of his soul.

He reached inside and found only emptiness.

The system's cold whisper echoed in his mind:

[Memory thread corrupted: One personal anchor at 78% loss]

[Warning: Natalie Longmen thread destabilizing]