The Shards of Elarion

The air in the Royal Archives of Taldoria was thick with the scent of parchment and the faint, lingering traces of candle wax. Shelves towered into the dimly lit heights, their wooden frames groaning under the weight of countless volumes, each containing whispers of forgotten lore and secrets buried by time. Alaris stood alone, his slender fingers tracing the worn spine of an ancient tome, his heart pounding in his chest.

Tonight was not like other nights.

He had spent years working in these archives, sifting through records of lineage, treaties, and agricultural accounts—mundane, predictable, and safe. But tonight, his curiosity had led him down a forbidden path. The manuscript before him, bound in cracked leather with arcane symbols etched in silver, was not supposed to exist. Its mere presence defied the rigid rules of the Taldorian scholars, and yet, here it was, hidden within the depths of the archive's restricted section.

Alaris hesitated, his breath shallow. A single glance over his shoulder confirmed that the halls were empty. The others had long since retired, their absence leaving only the gentle flickering of the lanterns and the occasional rustle of unseen vermin.

With trembling hands, he opened the tome.

The pages were old—so old that they seemed to whisper in protest as he turned them. Strange symbols, unlike any he had seen before, danced across the parchment in dark ink that shimmered faintly in the low light. He recognized pieces of the old language, fragments of myths he'd read as a child, but the words took on a darker, more sinister meaning now.

*The Heartstone shall be shattered, and the Shattered One shall rise.*

The words sent a chill through him. The Heartstone. A legend. A myth whispered among scholars and dismissed by the Crown. A relic said to possess the power to shape the elements, torn asunder by the greed of men centuries ago. He read on, devouring every sentence, each one more unsettling than the last.

*From the five shards, kingdoms will rise and fall. When the time of reckoning comes, the one who bears the mark shall hold the world's fate.*

Alaris' hands tightened around the book, his brow furrowing. The Shattered One. A figure of destruction and salvation intertwined. The implications gnawed at him. Was this prophecy just another fabrication, or had he stumbled upon something far greater than mere myth?

"What are you doing here?"

The voice shattered the silence, and Alaris nearly dropped the book. He spun around to find Master Orlin standing at the entrance, his weathered face creased with suspicion. The old scholar's piercing gaze fell upon the tome in Alaris' hands, and his expression darkened.

"I... I was just..." Alaris stammered, struggling to find a plausible excuse, but Orlin's eyes narrowed.

"You shouldn't be reading that," the old man said, stepping forward with the slow, deliberate steps of someone who had seen too much. "Put it back. Now."

But Alaris couldn't move. "Master Orlin, have you seen what's written in here? The Heartstone—"

"Forget it," Orlin snapped, snatching the book from his grasp and slamming it shut. "Some knowledge is better left buried."

Alaris swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the moment pressing against him. "You knew about it. Didn't you?"

The older man sighed, rubbing a hand through his graying beard. "I know enough to fear it. Whatever you've read, forget it. Taldoria is not ready for the truth within these pages."

"But if the prophecy is real, then the Heartstone could be—"

"Real or not, it doesn't matter. Kings have waged wars over less." Orlin's voice lowered, and his eyes darted to the shadows. "There are ears everywhere, Alaris. Even in these halls."

A shiver ran down Alaris' spine. He had always thought of the archives as a place of knowledge, a sanctuary of learning. But now, it felt like a cage, every whisper and shadow hiding secrets he was never meant to uncover.

Orlin placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Go home. Forget you ever saw this."

Alaris wanted to argue, to press for answers, but the steel in Orlin's gaze left no room for defiance. Nodding reluctantly, he turned to leave, the weight of the manuscript's words pressing against his chest like an iron chain.

But as he walked through the silent corridors of the archives, a single thought gnawed at him.

*The Shattered One shall rise.*

Alaris didn't know why, but he felt an inexplicable connection to those words, as though they had been written for him alone.

---

The streets of Taldoria were quiet at this hour, the cobblestones slick with mist. Alaris moved quickly, his mind racing with possibilities. If the prophecy was true, then the five shards of the Heartstone were out there, hidden within the fractured kingdoms. And if someone were to unite them...

He shook his head. It was madness. And yet, deep in his heart, an undeniable curiosity burned.

Reaching his small chamber within the scholar's quarters, Alaris locked the door behind him and leaned against it, closing his eyes. The manuscript's words haunted him. He could feel them lingering in his thoughts, pulling him toward something he couldn't yet name.

After a moment, he moved to his desk, lighting a small candle. Pulling out a blank piece of parchment, he began to write, his hands steady despite the turmoil within him.

*The Heartstone. Five shards. A prophecy buried in the archives... and the Shattered One.*

He had to know more.

And he had a feeling that his life would never be the same again.