Who Forged The Fragment Of Seren In The Book'S Backstory?

Okay, quick and fan-happy take: the book never spells out a clear name for who forged the fragment of Seren, but it drops clues so thick you can almost smell the forge. My favorite short theory is that an elite, shadowy set of artisans — the Moonsmiths — were responsible. The fragment’s silvered edge, the hidden sigil mentioned in a single-line footnote, and the timing around the Sundering all nudge toward them.

Another tight possibility is that it was made for someone powerful — a patron used the guild’s secrecy for a political purpose — which would explain why the maker’s identity was scrubbed from official records. I find that satisfying because it makes the fragment feel like a relic with both craft and conspiracy baked into it. If you want a bite-sized reading session, check the chapter that mentions the sigil and the Sundering; it’s the clearest hint the book gives, and it’s ridiculously fun to unpack with friends.

What a deliciously sly piece of lore to dig into — the book hardly hands you a straight line, and I love that about it. The text never bluntly states 'X forged the fragment of Seren,' and that feels intentional: the author scatters clues like breadcrumbs rather than stamping the maker’s name on the artifact. When I pull the passages together, the most convincing trail points toward a secretive craft circle often referred to in marginalia as the Moonsmiths — an old guild of forgers who favored lunar-tempered techniques and tiny sigils hidden beneath ornamentation.

You can see why the Moonsmiths fit if you look for the little details. The fragment’s tempering is described with words that evoke night-forging and silvered flame; inscriptions on the fragment match the symbol scholars associate with that guild; and there are throwaway lines about a forger who vanished during the Sundering, which aligns with the Moonsmiths’ disappearance from civic records. None of that is proof, but it’s a pattern: metallurgy + sigils + a sudden historical blackout. I like to imagine an individual — not named in the main narrative — who belonged to that circle and slipped out of the official chronicle, leaving only this fragment as their signature.

If I wear my reader-sleuth hat, I also enjoy the possibility that the fragment was made under patronage rather than in a guild hall: someone with courtly resources could have commissioned a Moonsmith, giving political weight to the object. That interpretation helps explain why the fragment plays such a quiet but pivotal role in the plot: it’s both a piece of craftsmanship and a political token. Personally, this ambiguity keeps me turning pages and re-reading passages, hunting for more tiny signals. If you want, I can point out the exact lines that fed me this theory and we can pick them apart together.