The Shards of Elarion

Alaris stood at the edge of the grand balcony of the Taldorian archives, his gaze fixed on the sprawling city bathed in the glow of twilight. The manuscript he had unearthed weighed heavily in his hands, the ancient parchment whispering secrets that should have remained buried. His heart pounded in his chest, an unfamiliar rhythm of fear and anticipation. The words of the prophecy echoed in his mind, each syllable a ghostly murmur carried by the evening wind.

*"The Shattered One shall rise when the Heartstone stirs, and with them, the world shall be torn asunder or forged anew."*

Alaris' lips moved silently as he traced the words again, his fingers trembling slightly. He had spent years buried in books, seeking knowledge and understanding, but nothing had prepared him for this. The Shattered One—who were they? And why did the name seem to echo deep within his soul, like an answer he wasn't ready to hear?

He turned back toward the dimly lit archives, where shelves towered over him, filled with the wisdom of centuries. The scent of aged parchment and ink clung to the air, comforting yet oppressive. Alaris carefully rolled up the manuscript and tucked it into the folds of his scholar's robes. He needed answers, and only one person in Taldoria might have them.

---

Master Eryndor's chamber was tucked deep within the archive's labyrinthine corridors, a place Alaris had always associated with safety and knowledge. Tonight, it felt different—heavier, as if the very walls bore witness to secrets too terrible to speak aloud.

The elder scholar sat hunched over a tome, the flickering candlelight casting deep shadows across his lined face. His keen eyes lifted as Alaris entered, filled with both recognition and concern.

"You look as if you've seen a ghost, Alaris," Eryndor said, closing the tome with a deliberate motion.

Alaris hesitated only a moment before pulling the manuscript free and placing it before his mentor. "Master, have you ever heard of *The Shattered One*?"

The reaction was immediate. Eryndor's face paled, and his fingers tensed around the manuscript. "Where did you find this?"

"In the restricted archives," Alaris admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "It... called to me. I don't know how to explain it, but when I read these words, I felt... connected."

Eryndor leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. "You should not have meddled with such things, my boy. The prophecy of the Shattered One is more than mere myth. It is a warning. One that the rulers of Elarion have spent centuries trying to forget."

"But why?" Alaris pressed. "If the Heartstone still exists in shards, shouldn't we be seeking them? Protecting them?"

Eryndor sighed, the weight of his knowledge pressing visibly upon him. "Once, long ago, the Heartstone united the realms, bringing unparalleled harmony and prosperity. But power corrupts, Alaris. Kings grew greedy, mages reckless, and in the end... the Heartstone shattered. Its fragments were scattered, hidden away in the hope that no one could ever wield such dominion again."

Alaris swallowed hard. "And the Shattered One?"

Eryndor's gaze darkened. "A harbinger, they say. One who will either restore what was lost... or bring ruin. Some believe they are a chosen champion, others, a destroyer."

The words settled heavily between them, and Alaris felt an unsettling chill creep up his spine. "Could it be... me?"

Eryndor's eyes softened with a mixture of pity and resolve. "I do not know, my boy. But if the manuscript called to you, the threads of fate may already be weaving around you."

---

Alaris left Eryndor's chamber with a mind weighed down by questions. The streets of Taldoria stretched before him, their bustling life oblivious to the ancient threat stirring beneath their feet. Merchants called out their wares, children laughed in the narrow alleyways, and nobles strode past in their embroidered finery—all unaware of the prophecy's grip tightening around them.

He wandered aimlessly until he found himself at the edge of the city, where the towering statue of the First King stood watch over Taldoria. The inscription at its base caught his eye.

*"Unity through wisdom. Strength through sacrifice."*

Alaris traced the words with his fingers, a growing sense of purpose welling within him. If he was to uncover the truth, he would need to act, to step beyond the comfort of his studies and into the heart of the storm.

"I have to find the shards," he whispered to himself. "Before someone else does."

A soft rustling behind him made him turn sharply. A hooded figure emerged from the shadows, their presence almost spectral.

"You seek the shards, scholar?" the figure's voice was a mere whisper, yet it cut through the night like a blade.

Alaris took an instinctive step back. "Who are you?"

The figure tilted their head, revealing a glimpse of a sharp, calculating smile. "A friend... or an enemy. That depends on you."

Alaris' fingers tightened around the manuscript tucked under his robes. "What do you want?"

"To help you, of course." The figure took a step closer, their eyes gleaming in the dim torchlight. "The shards are not mere relics of the past, Alaris. They are alive, and they are waiting. But you are not the only one seeking them."

A shiver ran down Alaris' spine. "Who else?"

The stranger chuckled darkly. "The Silent King moves, his spies already weave through the kingdoms like a shadow in the wind. And then there is... the Shattered One."

Alaris' breath hitched. "But the Shattered One is just a myth—"

"Is it?" The figure leaned in closer. "Are *you* not a myth, scholar? Are you not standing here, the chosen of a prophecy long buried?" They reached into their cloak and pulled out a small, crystalline shard that pulsed with a faint, eerie glow. "Do you feel it calling to you?"

Alaris' heart thundered as his gaze locked onto the shard. A part of him wanted to reach for it, to claim it, to *understand* it. But another part—the rational, cautious part—held him back.

"Who are you?" he demanded again.

The figure smiled, stepping back into the shadows. "You will know soon enough, Alaris of Taldoria. The game has begun, and you are already a piece on the board."

Before Alaris could react, the figure disappeared into the night, leaving him standing beneath the watchful gaze of the First King's statue, the weight of destiny settling upon his shoulders.

The Shattered One's return was not just a prophecy anymore.

It had begun.