A sound from inside the cabin interrupted his thoughts, a crash followed by a thud.
Kalen hurried back inside to find the young man had fallen from the bed, taking a water pitcher down with him. He lay on the floor, eyes open but unfocused, trying weakly to push himself up.
"Easy there," Kalen said, kneeling beside him. "You're in no condition to be moving about."
The youth's eyes fixed on him, confusion giving way to fear. He tried to scramble backward, away from Kalen, but his weakened body betrayed him. "Who... " His voice cracked from disuse. "Who are you? Where am I?"
"Name's Kalen," he answered, keeping his distance to avoid frightening the boy further.
"You're in my cabin. I pulled you from the river three nights ago, half-dead with a hole in your chest."
The young man's hand went instinctively to his chest, feeling the bandages there. His eyes widened as his fingers found the hard protrusion beneath the dressing the sword fragment still embedded in his flesh.
"The sword," he whispered. "Varius..."
The name confirmation sent a chill through Kalen. So the boy was connected to the coup.
"That's right," Kalen said carefully. "You had a sword through your chest when I found you. Most of it came out in the river, but there's a piece still in there. Seems to be keeping you alive, strangely enough."
The youth closed his eyes, memories visibly washing over him. His face contorted with grief so raw that Kalen had to look away.
"They're dead," the boy said, his voice hollow. "All of them. I saw it happen."
Kalen remained silent, letting him process. After a moment, he gently helped the youth back onto the bed, noting how the boy flinched at his touch before allowing it.
"You've been fevered for days," Kalen explained, pouring a cup of water from the undamaged pitcher. "Need to get some fluids in you."
The young man accepted the cup with shaking hands, drinking greedily. When he finished, he looked at Kalen with clearer eyes. "Why did you help me?"
The question was direct, suspicious even. Not the typical response of someone rescued from death.
"Seemed the right thing to do," Kalen answered with a shrug. "Found you in the river, still breathing against all odds. Figured anyone that determined to live deserved a chance."
The youth studied him, wariness evident in his posture despite his weakness. "You don't know who I am?"
"Should I?" Kalen countered, watching the boy's reaction carefully.
A moment of calculation passed behind those eyes too old for his young face. Then, slowly, he shook his head. "No. I'm no one important."
The lie hung between them, acknowledged but unchallenged.
"Well, No One Important, you need rest," Kalen said, refilling the water cup. "Whatever happened to you, whatever you're running from... it can wait until you're stronger."
Relief flickered across the youth's features, quickly masked. "How long until I can travel?"
"Travel?" Kalen raised an eyebrow. "Lad, you died three days ago. The fact you're talking now is nothing short of miraculous. You won't be traveling anywhere for weeks, maybe months."
"I don't have weeks," the young man insisted, trying to sit up straighter and wincing at the effort. "It's not safe... "
"It's not safe for you to leave this bed, is what it is," Kalen interrupted. "Whatever trouble you're in, you're no good to yourself in this condition."
The youth subsided, either convinced or simply too weak to argue further. His eyes drifted to the cabin's single window, where evening light filtered through.
"What day is it?" he asked quietly.
"Fourth day of the Moon Month," Kalen answered. "Three days since the... changes in the capital."
The young man's expression remained carefully neutral at the mention of the capital, but his hands clenched the blanket tightly. "Have you heard... details?"
Kalen considered how much to share. The boy clearly knew more than he was saying, but pushing too hard might close him off completely.
"Just rumors," he said finally. "The official word is that the imperial family died in an accident. Convenient timing for High General Varius to step in as Lord Protector."
A bitter smile touched the youth's lips. "An accident. Is that what they're calling it?"
"What would you call it?" Kalen asked, watching closely.
The young man met his gaze directly for the first time. Something in those eyes, a depth of pain and determination beyond his years, struck Kalen forcefully.
"The end," he said simply. Then, more quietly: "My end, too."
Before Kalen could respond, the youth's eyes rolled back suddenly, his body going rigid. The bandaged chest wound began to glow with blue light, visible even through the dressing. His back arched as if in pain, a strangled sound escaping his throat.
Kalen moved quickly to his side, recognizing the signs of a seizure. He turned the boy onto his side, making sure his airway remained clear, and held him steady as the convulsions intensified.
"Fight it, lad," he urged, though he wasn't sure what "it" was: the wound, the fever, or something else entirely.
The blue light pulsed brighter, spreading visible patterns beneath the young man's skin like luminous veins. His eyes opened, but instead of pupils and irises, they showed only the same blue light, as if he gazed at something beyond the physical world.
"Fracture accepted," the youth said, his voice oddly doubled. "Reconstruction begins."
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the episode ended. The light faded, the body relaxed, and consciousness fled once more. Only the faint, rhythmic glow from the chest wound remained, pulsing in time with the slowing heartbeat.
Kalen sat back, shaken by what he'd witnessed. In his years of service, he'd seen System awakenings before the rare, powerful abilities that manifested in certain individuals, usually those of noble bloodlines.
But those had been controlled, celebrated events, carefully monitored by imperial System masters.
This was something different. Something wild and unpredictable. Something potentially dangerous.
"What have I gotten myself into?" Kalen muttered, checking the youth's pulse and finding it surprisingly strong.
Whatever was happening to the boy, it was changing him fundamentally. The wound that should have killed him was instead becoming part of him, transforming him into something new.
Whether that transformation would save him or destroy him remained to be seen.
Kalen settled back in his chair for another long night of watching.
Outside, darkness fell over the forest, and somewhere in the distance, wolves began to howl a fitting accompaniment to the strange vigil taking place in the small cabin.
The young man's face had relaxed in unconsciousness, looking suddenly younger and more vulnerable. Despite his suspicions, Kalen felt his protective instincts stirring.
Whoever this boy was, whatever he had been before the river, he was now something else... something being forged in the crucible of trauma and transformation.
"Sleep," Kalen told him quietly. "Whatever you're becoming, it can wait until morning."
The faint blue glow continued its steady pulse, a heartbeat of light in the darkening room. Neither life nor death, but something in between... a liminal state where old identities died and new ones waited to be born.
In his unconscious mind, Aedan Valerian, last prince of a fallen dynasty, drifted among the constellation of broken sword fragments.
One by one, they arranged themselves into a pattern that would define his future... a System unlike any the empire had seen before.
The Fractured Sword was awakening.