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Shepard first came to the attention of one of the gods upon receiving the title of first human Spectre. They knew the one to end the Harvesters would be the first of a shared title. A soul who craves peace and normally but cannot stand by in the face of pain and desolation. Before that, she was just as any other, and even after They glanced upon her she was still just [redacted] Shepard until she touched the waters.
When she returned the first time physically at the hands of science alone, the tightening knot was permanent. Due to inpartial interference, her soul returned to her body despite its rightful place on the resting shore. Her spot already earned, they had to push her to the brink to form the basis of the next tale. She survived, not thrived and then when it was clear it was not as it should be, the unweaving was agreed upon. More than desired died, she was not given options as was pre-determined in the Notes of the impartial. Thus the cycle of reweaving began. The basis of the next warp must be perfect.
They decided she only needs to remember the times she made it to the moment of change, less her willpower fade. The first cut to grave to tie was at the hands of the first Harvester on a rocky world in the second weaving. They reset her to the point they first wished too, and she lived again. She reset many times, some records lost in the jostling of the threads, but the Pool of a Trillion Names and those forces who watched the reweaving closely know of a multitude of mistakes bad enough to unweave to square one. When she was finally ready to tie off upon the next warp, they watched as she started remembering the ordeals her soul carried. She took the knowledge and saw what needed to be done, and did so. The next cards could be threaded.
She survived; gravely injured and near death, her cybernetics held fast through the dark energy blast due to how they adapted to her biotics. During her tenure, she will wonder if she was meant to die at that time. She both was and was not. The tale they wished to display did have Shepard survive into the next era, but things were wrong. She was to play a vital role, but the threads would not allow it.
The epicenter of it all was a point above Earth. The Crucible blast alone injured billions across every cluster from mass effect fields interacting with the dark energy. Famine swept the galaxy as they lost access to agriworlds, any world outside their immediate cluster. Technology decimated, communication between species could only occur with an asari melding. Unable to survive on the levo plants cultivated in the the Sol system, the turians were doomed first. Most of their number joined the Battle for Earth, and only the ones on dextro worlds survived the first six months. The quarian’s live ships survived, but they lost half of their fleet outright and many remaining vessels needed parts they simply could not produce from a single system alone. Thus they set off on the first post-war exodus. Garrus and Tali go with them, otherwise doomed to a slow death, leaving their comatose Commander in the hands of the one who found her.
Shepard awakens a year after the blast to continued apocalypse. With Javik at her side, she tries to help and heal. Both revered for ending the Reapers and disdained for the destruction of the relays, she frays. Her implants misfire constantly, but still keep her alive. Cybernetic eyes go blind at random times. Her right arm and leg gone and cloning technology destroyed in the blast, she gains synthetic limbs that only work half the time due their connection to the fried CPU in her skull. Accidentally triggering her amp causes seizures. In constant pain she hides away with the last Prothean, both relicts from a time gone, but her body is quick to fail.
The forces that be hold the shuttles, unsure of their next action. Some fates had been fulfilled, but others not. The desired goal achieved with the best path laid out. What was missing from the weave? They chose not record the nature of the one that suggested the slight tweaks that could rearrange the warp, because it was not the interpretation of the Notes they had agreed on. They were to destroy the Harvesters not just the Harvests. In the end, they decided to at least try to reorient a few cards. They could always undo the problem stitches. The impartial waits watching.
The chosen soul did not like this change, and decided they were to ensure the extinctions escalate to the fullest possible scale. They had not interfered directly before, they will continue in that the majority decides against the wishes of the guiding hand and her companions born of the same matter. The regret to come could tighten the weave into a stronger willpower that would have a better chance at overcoming the Harvesters again with the new colors interlaced the majority claimed, and they had no choice but to incorporate their threads for now.
When she woke up again, they watched her struggle to cope with the stains on her card. Should they take away the memory and renew her? It was a loosening pull, not tightening. In what many thought the final days of this experiment, the gaps disappeared as the soul sat up in her mortal form with a new fire. They had watched the sparks since the memories started returning, but the full spark caught the kindling. The impartial takes Note.
What are you doing They cried, their hard work in peril. But the shuttle responsible told the others not to fret, they work with fireproof thread. This soul is theirs to tighten and beat for now and the others will see the new design emerge and flourish as deemed by the impartial's newest Note. Just give them as many chances as they have taken thus far, if they fail a new discussion over the orientation of the cards can be had. The others listen stepping back as the fundamentals demand.
At first fiery hands continue the pattern same as before with small tweaks, fingers plucking experimentally as the differences start to appear with input from a shuttle obscured in shadow. The basis they had been searching for started appearing in the pattern. The other shuttles watch as the fiery red reaches the same decision point they found long ago, but a blue thread of the Harvesters sits waiting to be tied. The soul lifts the green, and the shuttle sighs and unweaves. Green is a step closer than red. She starts anew, her Siha growing tired of this dance.
Unprompted the soul reaches out and intertwines with a devotee of the impartial and shadows strengthening herself with his precision. It's what she must do to prepare, to cope, to ensure all is not for nothing. The goddess watches the stars start to align, her chosen coming when called at last, the pattern finally falling into place. The blue thread emerges as they all come to intersect.
When the impartial rises laying hands upon the loom, her hook emerges from the depths. She smiles and ties the threads together into the new warp. She distributes her next Notes to the forces that be, before sinking back into the depths to watch anew.
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Kalahira is one of many names for the pool mortal cards end up in. She guides them where they will find what they need most to be at peace. Everyone is hers in the end, she need not pick favorites. Her power vast indeed, there are still fundamentals holding her in place. A card once placed in its destined place shall not be rethread, but the rules of the threads themselves are looser, and dropped ones could be pulled tight if she witnessed the spindle not stop.
It was a fiery shuttle loaded with orange and red that noticed the card the impartial would lay their hands upon. The shuttle would be granted guidance of the card and the rare permissions of direct interference as deemed by the Notes in time, but the flow must allow. When a card dropped suddenly with her threads still spinning, the shuttle makes the case of tightening the card as it pummels into the pool. To cut a thread before it’s stopped spinning is against the fundamentals in all but written Note, and that would have to occur if the card sunk into the pool. The other shuttles that supported the tightening pleaded with the resistant and apathetic. If they agreed, they could do it without the interference of the one with a Trillion Names.
The impartial One of the Pooled Fabric knew one of the cards were soon to fall into her hands before its time. The shuttles need not bicker. She had already considered consulting on the pattern this repeat, she grows tired of the Harvests. Her cards should be allowed to determine new courses to be set again. It had been eons since the Originators rose up to dwell and weave their influences into continuing traces. The thread they created too intertwined yet, They could consult with the shuttles and provide guides on xer Notes.
She rises up and confers with the shuttle whose threads hold the weft of this card's warp. She is not of the matter of the threads, how fascinating a color combination. The other shuttles still as the shuttle pleads for the impartial to allow her to do as the Notes now ask, for the others are too set in their ways and interpretation of the old. The One of Every Title rises her hook from his pooled depths with the card threaded teal resting upon. The shuttles gaze upon the spindles, spinning yet.
With the grace of the Notes and the Pool, the shuttle is granted the chance to weave with the chosen card, and when the soul is ready permission is granted to call upon her, she will come, and the Impartial shall speak again alongside. A devotee still being spun as caught her eye, far and few between, this one of green already in the patterns alongside. The stars align, and the new warp is tied in by the hands of the Impartial, the new tale ready to start being created.