Obsidian Shards Novelas e Histórias

The object gleamed briefly in the dim light, cutting through the air with a whisper. A sharp hiss followed. The Rogue King’s laughter stopped abruptly. His brows furrowed in confusion as he looked down at his chest. There, lodged right between his ribs, was a jagged, black shard. He staggered back, staring at it in disbelief. “What… what have you done?” I took a step forward, eyes blazing. “Obsidian,*” I said, keeping my voice steady and calm, as excitement blazed behind my eyes. “The weakness of the undead.”

The ground beneath the sled turned into a liquid-grey grid, and the sky flickered from bruised purple to a sterile, blinding white. ​While the Vanguard engaged the Inquisitors in a frantic, high-velocity dance of shadow and light, Aris scrambled toward the Shard. It sat at the center of a mile-wide crater, a jagged monolith of "Raw-Silver" that hummed with a sound like a choir of a million dying stars. The air around the Shard was so dense with energy that Aris’s hair began to glow with a soft, violet bioluminescence.

Boulder rumbled, his tawny form tackling a wraith, claws raking, the red glow fading, the vale’s wind howling, the frozen earth trembling, Jasper’s warmth a shield, the shard’s call a challenge, the pack’s legacy a song. Lila’s voice was urgent, her charcoal stick scratching against the parchment, hazel eyes darting between the shard and her scroll, her fingers smudged with ash, the cold making her hands shake, but her resolve firm, the shard’s hum a rhythm she’d break, the icy ground slick, the vale’s wind howling, the red glow of the runes pulsing faster, the frozen river’s cracks reflecting the light, the standing stones’ shadows lengthening, her courage a quiet flame, the shard’s call a

“The shards are driving them mad.” Zara dropped to her knees, palms pressed into the soil where the dust had fallen. Magic sparked like a thousand stings. The shard’s energy writhed, unclaimed, unchained. It wanted to crawl inside her veins, to feed. “It’s chaos,” she said hoarsely. “Every shard is a wound, bleeding wrong power into the land.” Above, another streak tore down. She could feel its destination before it landed. South, near the river. Witches would already be on their way—hunters, scavengers, anyone desperate enough to take hold of such power.

I sat in the bath until the water cooled, letting steam open my pores, trying to breathe through the pressure in my chest. The obsidian shard lay beside me on a towel. I kept staring at it. It would break the bond. But it might break me too. I pressed my thumb to the edge and nicked the skin. Just a drop. Blood hit the shard and vanished instantly, absorbed like water into sand. The stone hummed. Then it whispered. Not with words. With feeling. Pain, rage, love, regret, hunger. It was all in there. And it was mine. The door creaked.

The chain was adjustable, allowing Aqua to wear the pendant at just the right length so that it rested over her heart. As she wore it, Aqua noticed the stone's clarity, reflecting her calm and balanced state of mind. Whenever she felt at peace, the pendant remained clear and pristine. However, when her emotions stirred, the pendant would change. A slight hue of blue appeared when she felt sadness, while a warm golden tone emerged during moments of happiness. If anger or fear took hold of her, the gemstone would darken, turning a deep, unsettling black.

When that amount of raw magic goes astray, things tend to blow up or disintegrate. Maybe I need a smaller object to focus on. The poor trees have suffered enough abuse at my hands for one day. Reaching into my pocket I pull out the shard of obsidian I picked up on the day we saved the imprisoned women. It’s become almost like a lucky charm and I’ve taken to carrying it with me every day. Hitting something that’s about the size of my thumb seems like a long shot, but I’m here to test myself. Hopefully I won’t blow it to pieces, I’ve grown very attached to it. Maybe that’s exactly the incentive I need though.

The sight that greeted them was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. In the center of the chamber stood a colossal crystal, its facets pulsing with an inner light unlike anything they had ever seen. It thrummed with an energy that seemed to vibrate through their very bones. Professor Thorne, her voice barely a whisper, identified it as a celestial shard, a remnant of a shattered star, imbued with unimaginable power.

Duncan and Oscar managed to stay on their feet, but they were forced to shield their faces from the blinding light. The black energy began to swirl around little Zach like a miniature tornado, but the boy didn't look hurt. He stood perfectly calm in the center of the storm, his silver eyes glowing with a cosmic, infinite power. Suddenly, a loud, horrific CRACK echoed through the courtyard. The ancient Shard of Destiny—a relic that had survived five hundred years of pack history and handled the blood of dozens of supreme kings—began to split down the center. Deep, glowing silver fractures raced across its surface.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 The square did not explode; it dissolved. What Maya had mistaken for the inert remains of a defeated army; the drift of salt-white ash suddenly betrayed its true nature. It was no longer debris. It was a billion microscopic shards of obsidian glass, animated by a singular, hungry intelligence. It didn't strike with the clumsy weight of the earlier models; it moved with the capillary action of a spilled ink, wicking into the fibers of their wool cloaks and seeking the porous vulnerability of human skin.