The sky above the Marches shifted-clouds dragging like heavy curtains over a hidden sun. Cold wind coiled around the group as they left the ruin behind, but Auren didn't feel it.
Not really.
His hand still tingled where the Shard had pulsed in his palm. The vision still burned behind his eyes. He walked in silence, even as Kael tried to speak.
"You saw something," Kael said gently. "Something bad?"
"Something true," Auren replied, voice low. "And truth isn't always kind."
They set camp by a shattered pillar, the remains of an old watchtower. As Lys prepared the fire, Kael laid out a map. But Auren sat apart, staring at his hands like he didn't recognize them.
The others watched from a distance. Whispers floated between them.
"He's changed," one murmured.
"He always was different," said another.
Kael shot them a glare, silencing the camp. He returned to Auren and sat quietly.
"You're not alone in this," he said after a moment.
Auren looked up. "But I'm the only one it chose."
That night, Auren dreamed.
He stood in a sea of stars. Before him, a figure cloaked in tattered silver floated—its face hidden beneath a crown of thorns.
"You carry what should have stayed buried," it whispered. "You wear the mark of the Shardborn."
"What does that mean?" Auren asked.
"It means you are the echo of a war that never ended… and the spark of one yet to come."
Lightning cracked the sky.
The figure reached toward him—and Auren woke gasping.
The next morning, his Shard had changed.
It no longer gleamed. Instead, it pulsed faintly—like a heartbeat beneath stone. Symbols danced along its surface, ancient and alive.
Lys stepped back when she saw it.
"That's not a normal Shard anymore."
"No," Auren replied, his voice firm. "It never was."
Later that day, they reached the edge of a village—burned to the ground. Ash covered everything, and no bodies remained.
Only bones. Arranged in circles. Marked with symbols Auren recognized from his dream.
Kael knelt beside one.
"Who would do this?"
"I don't think this was done," Auren said quietly. "I think something woke up."
Suddenly, the Shard in his palm flashed. A faint voice echoed again.
"They remember you."
From the shadows of the charred ruins, shapes stirred.
Tall, twisted. Wrapped in rags, their eyes glowing green. Not dead. Not alive.
Lys drew her blade. "Shardspawn…"
Auren stepped forward. His hand burned with light.
But this time, the light did not lash out.
It drew the creatures to him.
They knelt.
Everyone stared. Even Kael.
Auren's voice trembled. "They think I'm one of them."
"No," Kael said. "They think you're more."
The creatures hissed in unison.
"Shardborn…"
Auren clenched his fists. "Then it's time I learn what that truly means."