The Shards Novels & Stories

"We’re all out of it. Go on, get your bark and get out of here before the doctor catches you. He’s in a foul mood." I nodded and hurried out, my hand pressed against my pocket. I could feel the shard through the fabric. It felt like it was humming, a low vibration that made my skin crawl. I didn't go back to my post. I went to my small room in the barracks and locked the door. I sat on the edge of my cot and pulled the shard out. "What are you?" I whispered to the empty room. I remembered an old story my grandfather used to tell. He talked about the Shadow Shards—stones dipped in a poison so slow and so deep that no medicine could touch it. It didn't kill the body right away. It ate the soul

If I claim the shard now, will I truly survive as myself—or will Ashara rise in my place, leaving nothing of me behind? Ashara extended the shard toward me, its fire thrumming with impossible hunger, each pulse shaking the marrow of my bones. My body leaned forward against my will, drawn to it like a moth to a flame that promised both annihilation and rebirth. My fingers hovered inches away, trembling, the heat blistering the air between us. In that moment, I felt the shard choose—not her, not me, but something in between, something new and terrible. My breath caught as Ashara’s whisper coiled in my ear. “The moment you touch it, which of us survives?”

“The shard—it’s still active.” She turned to face it, her jaw set. “Then we end this, together.” --- We approached the shard side by side, our combined presence steadying the chaotic energy swirling around it. Aria reached out first, her hands trembling but sure. I followed, placing my hand over hers. The energy surged, trying to repel us, but we held firm. Together, we channeled our strength, pushing back against the artifact’s dark power. The shard let out a final, anguished scream before shattering into a thousand pieces, the light fading as the fragments fell to the ground.

It shattered with a scream of metal and shadow. But the shards did not fall. They hovered, spinning, scattering into the air in a chaotic storm of glimmering glass. Each fragment seemed alive, whispering names, moments, half-formed memories. Varuun stepped back, eyes wide. “Selene… the shards—they are not under your control.”

“Unity? After what we’ve faced, you want to test us again?” Luna stepped forward. “It’s not a test of us individually. It’s about us as a team. We’ve survived together. We’ve fought together. We are ready.” The Aurakyn nodded, golden light rippling across their armor. “Then follow. The next shards must be aligned, or the Veil itself will fracture.” Navigating the Shards The path ahead twisted through the molten shards, each one larger and more unstable than the last. Some floated midair, connected to the Veil by thin tendrils of energy. One misstep could trigger a catastrophic eruption.

The air shimmered, distorted by heat and magic. She dismounted, her boots sinking into scorched soil still warm beneath her feet. Ahead, the crater steamed , wide, deep, and glowing from within. Sienna stepped forward, drawn by something she couldn’t resist. At the crater’s center lay the shard , a massive fragment of translucent crystal, humming with the same pulse as her wrist. It was beautiful, terrible, alive. Her fingers twitched. She should have feared it. Every instinct screamed to stay back. Yet the closer she drew, the more the world seemed to fade , sound dulling, color draining, until only the shard remained, a beacon in the void.

“The shard, use it! It’s tied to the beast!” I fumbled with the pouch, my fingers trembling as I pulled out the obsidian shard. Its surface was hotter now, almost scalding, the red veins flaring with a hunger that made my skin crawl. I’d studied relics like this for years, piecing together their secrets in quiet libraries, but this was no dusty artifact.

His eyes are ember-silver, like the last light of a dying star. “I told you… when the third shard awakens,” he rasps, “you will not need to be taught. You will remember.” I shake my head. “But I don’t-” “You will.” He reaches out, his smoke-life hand brushing against my cheek like mist. “Rhea of fire. You are Crown and key. Flame and memory. The shards are not fragments of power. They are pieces of you. To reforge the crown… you must surrender to your truth.”

You think you’re saving the world, but you’re tearing the veil wider. She shook her head, gripping the shard tighter. “No. You said the Anchors are what keep the Rift stable, if we destroy them” You’re freeing it, he said. Not sealing it. Her pulse quickened. “That’s not true.” Then why is it in you now? The words hit her like a blow. She stared down at the shard, its gold light had dimmed, replaced with a faint, blood-red glow. For a heartbeat, she thought she saw movement within it, a shadow, watching her from the inside.

The cost was too visible, etched into the very soil of the North. Kaelen approached us, her boots crunching through the fine white powder that had settled on the stone. She held out a piece of the shattered null-glass we had seen forming during the clash. "The miners are calling it 'Saint-Shard,'" she said, her expression grim. "It’s draining the magic from anything it touches. We can’t let the pack stay out in the valley for long. Their internal fire will be snuffed out by the sheer proximity to this waste."