The Conclave shivered under a pulse from the central rift, light scattering across the floating platforms in fractured prisms. Each shard seemed alive, spinning erratically, reflecting the chaos in distorted angles. The air smelled of salt and metal, and faint ozone tingled against exposed skin. Aric knelt on a swaying platform, threads coiling in his hands like living vines, ready to respond to any shift.
Lyra vaulted past him, boots clanging on shards, hair plastered to her damp face. "Vale, if you stare at that fragment any longer, I swear I'll throw you into the void myself!"
Aric's lips twitched. "You act like it's a game of choice. Survival doesn't exactly leave options."
The kid stood nearby, small and unassuming, hands tucked loosely at their sides. Or at least, they appeared unassuming. Bell jingled faintly with each slight tilt of the head, and Aric's pulse jumped. Rogue shards slowed midair, platforms shifted gently, as if responding to the child's subtle guidance. He had stopped calling them "kid" in his head at all times now. Guide. That felt more accurate, even if it didn't explain the uncanny precision.
A fragment of Echo, shaped like a jagged mirror, floated near the edge of the platform cluster. Aric had retrieved it days ago from a collapsed rift, but had never examined it closely. Its surface rippled faintly, reflecting not just light but images that seemed almost alive.
"Careful," Lyra said, crouching beside him. "Last time you touched one of these, you spent half an hour staring at your own nightmares."
Aric didn't answer. Instead, he extended a hand slowly, fingertips hovering an inch from the fragment. It pulsed softly, almost like it was breathing. Then, with the faintest hum, the surface shimmered.
For a moment, Aric saw Kell. His partner's face, alive and laughing in a memory from weeks past, filled the reflection. The mouth opened silently, echoing only in Aric's mind. He jerked back instinctively. Memories that were not his own surged, twisting around his consciousness. Kell's final moments in Rift Nine, the way he had hoped to buy his freedom from the Guild, flashed through Aric's mind. Every action, every thought, every instinct of Kell's—recorded and waiting.
The guide stepped closer, bell jingling faintly. The child's eyes, unnervingly calm, scanned the fragment without touching it. The shard seemed to recognize them, tilting gently toward the young man's presence. Aric's heartbeat slowed. They know more than they let on. They see the fragment's memory in ways even I cannot.
Lyra frowned. "Stop staring like a mesmerized idiot. If that thing catches you off guard again, we're both doomed."
Aric swallowed and steadied himself. "It's not just a shard. It records more than just memories. It records… patterns. Resonance Patterns."
Lyra raised an eyebrow. "Patterns? You mean like moves, abilities, instincts?"
"Exactly." Aric's eyes were fixed on the rippling surface. "If I can understand someone's pattern—if I can truly feel it—I can temporarily access skills, reflexes, instincts. I can… become them, for a brief time."
Lyra's mouth hung open. "That is terrifying. And brilliant. Mostly terrifying."
The boy stepped closer, hand hovering just above the shard. A faint pulse ran through the platforms, and the fragment's ripples slowed, forming coherent images. The guide tilted their head, bell chiming softly, and Aric noticed a subtle shimmer of light around the child's fingers. Threads? Energy? Something entirely different?
A reflection appeared, not of Kell this time, but of someone else—a faintly familiar figure, older, cloaked, eyes burning with calm authority. Aric's stomach twisted. He blinked, and the image was gone.
"Vale?" Lyra's voice broke through his thoughts. "You're staring again. Did you see it too?"
"I… I think so," Aric muttered. "Something in the fragment… not just memories. It's like a puzzle. And the guide—they're connected to it somehow."
The child stepped back, bell jingling faintly. The shards in the area twitched as if acknowledging a command. Rogue shards slowed their spin, platforms tilted less violently, and Aric realized the young man was influencing the environment without moving much at all. Calm, precise, powerful. Too much for someone their age.
Aric reached for the fragment again, fingertips brushing the rippling surface. Whispers caressed his mind, not voices, not words, just patterns, instinctual cues, emotions… fragments of someone else's very essence. He could feel Kell's predatory instincts, his agility, and his combat knowledge. For an instant, Aric's body responded as Kell's might, muscles coiling naturally, reflexes perfect.
Lyra's eyes widened. "Oh wow. Oh wow. I am officially done. You're either a genius or a maniac. Possibly both."
The fragment pulsed again, faster this time. Aric's vision swam. He saw a glimpse of the child—not as a boy or young man, but as the figure from the shard's reflection, calm and poised, eyes like polished steel. The image was gone almost instantly, leaving only the faint memory of power.
"Something about them isn't right," Aric murmured. "They know more than we do, and the shard obeys them."
The child tilted their head, bell chiming faintly. Platforms straightened, rogue shards slowed, and for a heartbeat, the Conclave felt almost calm.
Lyra muttered under her breath. "We're basically babysitting a prodigy with the power to manipulate reality. I hate this job."
Aric forced a smile, though unease pressed on his chest. "It's not babysitting. They're… guiding us. Teaching us."
A massive pulse from the central rift vibrated through the Conclave. Platforms tilted violently. Aric tightened his grip on the threads, Lyra spun to redirect shards, and the child's micro-gestures subtly stabilized key platforms.
One shard, spinning faster than anything before, reflected the guide in a strange, older form. For a fraction of a second, Aric saw calm mastery, the kind that only comes from decades of experience, not years of childhood. He blinked. Not human. Not entirely. And not a child, at least not fully.
Lyra grabbed his arm. "Hey, Vale, focus! That shard is doing more than reflecting. It's threatening us!"
Aric nodded, pulling threads with precise urgency. He felt a connection forming—not just with the shards, but with the anomaly itself, responding to the presence of the child guiding them.
The pulse subsided. Platforms steadied. Rogue shards paused. The guide's bell jingled faintly, and the Conclave's tremors eased. Aric breathed deeply, muscles shaking from exertion, heart pounding with the awareness of untapped danger and potential.
"Tomorrow," Aric said quietly, voice almost lost in the hum of the Conclave, "I need to explore more of these fragments. Learn the patterns. Understand their… potential."
Lyra grinned despite herself. "And I suppose the child will be there, silently judging our every move, like the tiny phantom puppet master they are."
The guide tilted their head, bell chiming faintly, and for a moment, Aric thought they were smiling. Calm, measured, powerful—yet utterly unreadable.
The shard rippled gently on the platform, a mirror of past and future waiting for the right touch. And Aric realized, with both excitement and dread, that the child's secrets were far from fully revealed. Every lesson, every pulse, every reflection was a breadcrumb leading to something monumental.
Something is coming, he thought. And the guide will be at the center of it.