The Conclave shivered under the anomaly's pulse. Light fractured across platforms like water over broken glass, scattering reflections in every direction. Each platform quivered underfoot, slick with condensation, and the air smelled of iron and ozone, sharp and biting. Aric's gray eyes scanned every tremor, every irregular motion, tracing invisible threads between shards and platforms. Each motion required calculation, instinct, and precision. One misstep could send a platform tilting into the abyss or a shard careening toward them like a jagged meteor.
Lyra spun a fragment with her fingers, sending it arcing through the air. Its spin wavered under the pulse of the anomaly. "I swear, these things are alive," she muttered, balancing precariously on a swaying platform. "I can practically hear them plotting. Did they just glare at me?" She grimaced, flicking the fragment back toward the center with a practiced snap. "I'm going to need a vacation after this."
Aric didn't respond. His coat clung to his lean frame from the humidity, his boots braced on the trembling edges. He wove threads with rapid precision, stabilizing trembling platforms and redirecting errant shards. Sweat stung his eyes, and his fingers trembled slightly from exertion. The Conclave had shifted beyond ordinary instability; it had become a lesson, a test, a living puzzle.
Above them, the kid floated lightly, bells jingling softly with each imperceptible gesture. Their guide moved with ethereal precision, correcting tremors and nudging shards toward harmony without ever breaking the flow. Each subtle adjustment whispered authority. Every motion concealed intent, teaching without teaching, guiding without revealing.
Lyra noticed a shard veering toward the kid and froze. The fragment hung a fraction above their head, as if acknowledging their presence. "Okay," she muttered under her breath, "I think we're in the presence of a shard whisperer or… I don't even know. A child overlord of shards?"
Aric's gray eyes narrowed. He didn't trust humor in moments like this, but he allowed a faint smirk. "Acknowledgment is not normal. Even the anomaly knows. That is… concerning."
The kid's pale eyes flickered toward him briefly, bells chiming faintly, almost like a soft warning. Then they returned to their silent work, guiding tremors with subtle micro-gestures that Aric could only barely perceive. Each adjustment, each nudge, was purposeful. It wasn't just stabilization—it was instruction, a silent lesson embedded in chaos.
The anomaly pulsed violently, and shards spun faster, colliding in bursts of light and sound. Platforms shuddered. Lyra lunged, spinning another shard to intercept a rogue fragment. "I feel like a pinball," she shouted, landing hard on the tilted platform. "Somebody check if these shards are sentient!"
Aric reinforced threads, his mind mapping every motion and reaction. Sweat ran down the sides of his face, mixing with the chill in the air. Their guide darted between platforms, hands moving almost invisibly. Each micro-gesture stabilized tremors before they could propagate. Every subtle correction hinted at skill, experience, and knowledge far beyond what a child could possess.
A shard detached near the central pool, spinning slowly in midair. Its surface shimmered like liquid mirror, refracting light in fractured patterns. For a moment, Aric thought he saw a reflection of the kid that was not quite theirs—a version older, confident, eyes sharp with hard-earned knowledge. The image flickered and vanished.
Lyra's dark eyes followed him. "Did… did you just see that?"
Aric exhaled slowly. "Yes. And it wasn't the first time. They are hiding something. Something dangerous."
The kid's bells jingled softly, and they tilted slightly toward him, pale eyes unreadable. Their gaze was calm, detached, yet filled with a weight that pressed uncomfortably against his chest.
The anomaly reacted. Platforms trembled violently, shards spun faster, and for a heartbeat the world seemed to bend. Gravity felt inconsistent; a fragment hovered unnaturally, spinning as if suspended in both space and time. Lyra vaulted, catching the fragment mid-spin, redirecting it to a safer trajectory. "I swear, if I survive this, I'm going to start a shard-smashing circus," she joked, though the edge of tension in her voice betrayed fatigue.
Aric's hands moved almost automatically, threading strands to stabilize platforms and redirect rogue shards. His pulse thrummed with exertion and adrenaline. Sweat dripped into his eyes, but he barely noticed. The anomaly demanded precision, patience, and unrelenting focus.
Their guide hovered near the central pool, moving between platforms with a fluid grace that defied the Conclave's instability. Micro-gestures nudged tremors back into harmony, subtly guiding Aric and Lyra without ever revealing their full intent.
A shard flickered near the kid, and for a heartbeat, the light projected a ghostly memory—a whisper of someone calling a name, indistinct and fragmented. Aric stiffened. The Conclave, the anomaly, and the kid itself seemed to guard secrets, fragmenting information into whispers and reflections.
Lyra noticed his reaction. "What is it now? Another ghost shard?"
Aric shook his head subtly. "Something more. The kid… they are tied to something larger. Something we cannot see yet."
The central shard pulsed again, larger and heavier. Its surface reflected fragmented, distorted images of the Conclave—platforms tilting, shards spinning, the pale glimmer of the kid's eyes. Aric felt a shiver run down his spine. Even stabilized, the Conclave demanded respect, its chaos tempered only by their guide's precise movements.
Lyra, balancing on a trembling platform, spun a shard in a wide arc. "I'm starting to think our guide here is deliberately showing off," she said. "Like, 'look kids, survival 101, lesson one: don't die.'"
Aric allowed a brief smile, noting the subtle humor in her exhaustion. "Lesson one is more like observation. Everything they allow is deliberate. The anomalies, the shards, even our errors—they are lessons."
The kid's bells chimed softly, pale eyes glinting in the shard-lit reflection. Micro-gestures moved tremors into balance, nudging the team closer to stability. And yet, every correction, every subtle movement, hinted at restraint. The kid was holding back. Holding back what, Aric could not yet discern.
A sudden surge of the anomaly sent multiple shards spinning toward unstable edges. Aric lunged, threading additional stabilizations into the platforms. Lyra dove, spinning a fragment to intercept another, her hair plastered to her face with sweat. The kid's gestures were sharper, faster, almost urgent, guiding tremors before they could escalate.
The central shard pulsed violently, casting reflections that shimmered like broken mirrors. Aric caught glimpses—brief flashes of memory he could not place. Someone's voice, a faint echo of command, almost recognizable, vanished before he could comprehend. The kid's bells rang sharply, micro-gestures correcting the anomaly with unparalleled precision.
Lyra grunted as she landed. "Seriously. I don't know if I should laugh, cry, or strangle them." She gestured at the kid. "This tiny person has more control over this madness than anyone alive. I mean, come on."
Aric's gray eyes never left the kid. "That control is… unnatural. And the anomaly recognizes it. That is a problem for the future, perhaps even for now."
The kid's gaze flicked toward him, pale eyes unreadable, bells jingling faintly, almost like a soft warning. Then they returned to guiding, stabilizing, and orchestrating every fragment and platform.
A shard detached from the central pool, larger than any previously seen, spinning with erratic motion. The Conclave trembled as gravity shifted unpredictably. Aric and Lyra braced, their movements perfectly synchronized, yet dependent on subtle guidance. The kid moved in fluid arcs, micro-gestures invisible to all but Aric, stabilizing the Conclave against the growing chaos.
For a heartbeat, a reflection appeared in the shard—a ghostly visage of the kid, older, stronger, eyes sharp with experience beyond their years. Then it vanished, leaving only the hum of the Conclave and faint chimes of bells.
Lyra swallowed hard. "Did anyone else see that? That… isn't possible."
Aric exhaled slowly. "It is. And it isn't the first time. Our guide is far more than they appear. Far more."
The Conclave pulsed violently, shards spinning faster, platforms tilting dangerously. Aric threaded additional stabilizations, Lyra deflected rogue fragments, and the kid's micro-gestures held everything together.
Aric thought quietly, gray eyes narrowing. "One day we will understand. One day their secrets will surface. And when that day comes… nothing will be the same."
The anomaly pulsed, alive, unpredictable, and infinitely dangerous. The Conclave awaited the next challenge.