Sirt's heart pounded in his chest as the air around him shifted. The world he had known—Meridian with its chaotic streets and thundering machines—seemed like a distant memory now. The barren wasteland before him, full of strange energies and dark forces, was all too real. And the shard in his hand pulsed, a constant reminder that he was no longer in control of his fate.
Elara led him through the ruins, her footsteps light, almost imperceptible. She had given him little more than a few cryptic words, and yet, everything in this new world seemed to hinge on what she knew. Sirt didn't know whether to trust her, but in the silence of the wasteland, he had little choice.
The fog swirled around them, carrying the scent of decay and something darker. The broken towers ahead loomed like the remnants of a once-great civilization, now forgotten by time and consumed by corruption.
"What's this about, Elara?" Sirt asked, his voice hoarse as he tried to keep pace. The shard felt heavier with each step, its energy gnawing at his senses.
Elara didn't slow down, her silver eyes scanning the horizon. "You're a Shardbearer now, Sirt," she said. "That crystal you hold is a piece of this world's magic. When you touched it, you began your journey—whether you wanted it or not."
Sirt glanced at the shard in his hand, still glowing faintly, its edges sharp and intricate. It felt alien, like a piece of something that didn't belong to him.
"Shardbearer..." He muttered the word. "And what comes next? More monsters and weird magic?"
"Yes, for now," Elara answered without turning to him. "But the real danger comes when you ascend. When you become an Essence Wielder, that's when things start to change. And when you hit Dominion—that's when you begin to rewrite the very world around you. You'll have powers beyond anything you've seen. But be careful. Dominion comes with a price. The more power you gain, the more the realm takes."
Sirt felt a pang of unease. "And what happens if I don't make it? If I don't learn this magic?"
Elara's eyes flickered briefly to him, her lips twitching into a thin, unreadable smile. "Then the realm takes you instead. The Wraithkin are just the beginning. There are darker things here, things that wait for the unprepared to fall."
Sirt didn't ask further. He wasn't sure if he was ready to hear more. All he knew was that his survival depended on understanding the forces that governed this realm. And as he looked at the shard again, he couldn't help but feel like the universe had thrown him into something much bigger than he was.
The library came into view, an ancient structure that seemed to grow out of the earth like a jagged, half-buried monolith. The stone walls were weathered, covered in vines and creeping moss, but there was something about it that felt... alive.
"Here," Elara said, stepping inside without waiting for him. The air inside was thick with dust, and Sirt's footsteps echoed through the vast hall as he followed her deeper into the chamber.
The space was filled with books, scrolls, and glowing artifacts that flickered with energy. The shelves were chaotic, as if they had been hastily abandoned long ago. Strange symbols adorned the walls, and the floor was littered with cracked tiles and broken relics.
Elara walked toward a large pedestal in the center of the room. Resting on it was a large tome, its cover engraved with more of the strange symbols that decorated the chamber. She opened it, her fingers brushing over the pages, the flickering light casting eerie shadows on her face.
"These are the basics," she said, glancing over her shoulder at Sirt. "These texts will help you learn how to harness the power within you. But don't get cocky. Magic in this realm doesn't obey the same rules as your world."
Sirt nodded, though the last thing he wanted was to rely on magic. He had always survived through stealth and speed, not through power he didn't understand. But the way Elara spoke—like she had seen too many fall to this world's corruptive pull—made him realize he didn't have a choice.
He stepped closer to the pedestal, his eyes scanning the words on the pages. They were foreign, a language he didn't recognize, but somehow, he understood them. The text seemed to pulse, aligning with the shard in his hand. The connection between them was undeniable.
"Essence," he murmured, reading the first line. "Power drawn from the very soul of the world..."
Elara nodded, closing the book with a heavy thud. "That's the first step—understanding that the magic here is not just learned. It's felt. You'll have to shape it, control it, or it will control you."
She picked up a small, delicate crystal from the pedestal. It was a pale blue, almost transparent, and as she held it, faint sparks of light danced along its surface. "This is a Shard of the first stage—an Essence Wielder's tool. It's your first weapon. A focus for your magic."
Sirt watched her, skeptical. "And how do I use it?"
Elara's lips curled into a brief, faint smile. "By understanding the flow of the world. You don't use the shard like a sword; you let it guide you. It connects you to the realm, amplifies your own power."
Sirt frowned. "Sounds like a bunch of mumbo jumbo."
Elara met his gaze. "That's why you'll fail if you don't learn. Power here isn't like what you're used to. You can't just steal it."
She walked past him, her figure bathed in the flickering light of the artifacts. "Start with the basics. Reach into the essence of the shard. You'll feel it when it connects to you—there's no avoiding it."
Reluctantly, Sirt took the shard in both hands, the cold edges biting into his skin. His mind raced, but he followed her instructions. Slowly, he closed his eyes and tried to connect with the shard.
For a moment, nothing happened. The air was still, the weight of the shard pressing against his palms. Then, a low hum began to fill the air. It was subtle at first, but it grew, vibrating through his hands, through his arms, and into his very chest.
Images flashed in his mind—visions of magical forces, ancient powers flowing like rivers beneath the surface of the earth. Sirt gasped, as if he had been suddenly immersed in a sea of light and darkness.
The magic swirled around him, both inviting and terrifying, and in that moment, he understood. The shard was not just a tool—it was a key. A key to unlocking something far deeper, far more dangerous than he could comprehend.
He yanked his hands back, the connection severing abruptly, and he stumbled back, his breath ragged.
"What... what the hell was that?"
Elara's eyes glinted with something akin to amusement. "You've touched it now. Welcome to your first lesson."
Sirt swallowed hard. "How the hell do I control it?"
Elara's gaze softened, but only for a moment. "You don't control it. You learn to flow with it. Power here... it can break you or make you. There's no middle ground."
Sirt clenched his fists, determination flashing in his eyes. "Then teach me how to make it."
Elara inclined her head. "Very well, thief. You'll need to learn quickly, because there are things out there far more dangerous than Wraithkin. And they'll come for you—whether you're ready or not."
The door to the library creaked in the wind, and the shadows outside shifted, as if they were watching. Sirt felt the weight of his new reality settle in his chest.
The real journey was just beginning.