The shard's power burned like liquid fire in Aloysius's hand. The crystalline prism dissolved into dust, leaving the raw essence of the Radiant Veil to seep into his veins. For a fleeting moment, he felt invincible — then came the heaviness, as though the shard carried the grief of every guardian who had fallen to protect it.
Kaelis noticed his strained expression. "You're taking in too much. Each shard binds to you — but they're not meant for one vessel alone."
Elyon, her voice low and urgent, added, "The more you claim, the closer you walk toward corruption. Even if you succeed, will you still be you?"
They set camp at the edge of the sanctuary ruins, the fire casting long shadows that shifted unnaturally in the wind. That night, Aloysius dreamed.
In his vision, a colossal mirror reflected not his image but a fractured version of himself eyes blackened, skin marred by jagged cracks glowing with the same energy as the shards. The fractured self whispered, "Every piece you take brings us closer. You cannot banish what you are becoming."
When Aloysius awoke, the fire was dead, the moon hidden by thick clouds. In the darkness, he felt the shard's pulse not as a beacon of hope, but as a heartbeat echoing from something ancient and waiting.
Somewhere beyond the forest, the next shard awaited… but so did the being whose presence had begun to haunt his dreams.