The evening in Elden Hollow carried a weight Kael couldn't shake, a tension that clung to the air like the damp after a storm. He sat on the weathered wooden steps of his family's house, his sketchbook balanced on his knees, charcoal pencil scratching against the page as he tried to capture the strange auroras flickering in the sky. They weren't the gentle northern lights he'd seen as a child, their greens and blues dancing over the hills. These were jagged, violent streaks, fractures of violet, gold, and a sickly crimson that pulsed like a heartbeat against the twilight. The sight made his stomach churn, though he couldn't say why.
His sister, Mira, stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the warm glow of the kitchen light. She was sixteen, a year younger than Kael, with her dark hair tied back in a messy bun and her arms crossed tightly over her sweater. Her voice cut through the stillness, sharp but tinged with the concern she always tried to hide. "Kael, you're wasting time again. Dad's been calling you for ten minutes. There's a storm coming, get inside."
Kael didn't look up, his pencil pausing mid-stroke. "It's not a storm, Mira. Look at it." He gestured toward the sky, where the auroras twisted like cracks in a mirror, their colors bleeding into one another. A faint hum accompanied them, low and resonant, vibrating through the ground and up his spine. "It's been like this for days, getting worse. Something's… wrong."
Mira sighed, stepping onto the porch with a creak of the floorboards. She followed his gaze, her frown deepening as a particularly vivid streak of crimson split the sky, its edges fraying like torn fabric. "You and your weird theories. It's probably just some atmospheric thing. The news said it's a solar flare or something."
"Did the news mention the animals?" Kael countered, finally meeting her eyes. They were the same hazel as his, but hers held a spark of defiance he'd always envied. "The birds haven't sung in a week. The deer ran through town yesterday, hundreds of them, like they were fleeing something. And Mrs. Harrow said her dog hasn't stopped howling since Tuesday."
Mira rolled her eyes, but her expression faltered, a flicker of unease crossing her face. "You're being paranoid. Come on, before Mom starts yelling too." She turned back inside, her sneakers scuffing against the threshold.
Kael lingered a moment longer, his gaze returning to the sky. The hum grew louder, a deep thrum that seemed to press against his eardrums. He flipped his sketchbook shut, the half-drawn aurora smudged with his hesitation, and tucked his pencil behind his ear. The town of Elden Hollow stretched out below the hill where their house stood an unremarkable cluster of clapboard homes, a general store, and a single gas station, all nestled between rolling fields and dense pine forests. It was the kind of place where nothing ever happened. Until now.
Inside, the house smelled of his mother's cooking, roasted potatoes and thyme, a comfort that clashed with the tension in the air. The kitchen was cramped, the table cluttered with mismatched plates and a stack of bills his father had been grumbling over all week. His parents were already mid-argument when Kael stepped in, Mira shooting him a glare that said This is your fault.
"Kael, where have you been?" his father barked, his broad shoulders hunched over the table. He was a tall man, his face weathered from years of working at the lumber mill, his voice carrying the gravel of someone who shouted to be heard over machinery. "You were supposed to fix the fence this afternoon. I'm not running a hotel here."
"I was drawing," Kael mumbled, setting his sketchbook on the counter. He avoided his father's gaze, focusing instead on the peeling linoleum floor.
"Drawing," his father repeated, the word dripping with disdain. "You're seventeen, not seven. You need to pull your weight around here."
"Leave him be, Thom," his mother interjected, her voice softer but no less firm. She stood at the stove, stirring a pot, her apron dusted with flour. Her dark hair was streaked with gray, pulled back in a tight bun that made her look older than her forty-two years. "He's got his exams coming up. And with this weather… I don't like it. The radio said there's a chance of blackouts tonight."
"It's not a storm," Kael said again, his voice barely above a whisper. He moved to the window, peering out at the sky. The auroras were brighter now, their pulses faster, as if racing toward some unseen climax. The hum had become a rumble, shaking the glass in its frame.
Mira snorted, grabbing a glass of water from the sink. "You're so dramatic. It's just—"
The light came before she could finish.
It erupted without warning, a blinding flash that swallowed the world in white. Kael's vision burned, his hands flying to his face as a scream tore through the air, not from his family but from the sky itself. The sound was unearthly, a wail that seemed to rip through reality, shaking the house to its foundation. The walls groaned, cracks spiderwebbing across the plaster as the floor buckled beneath them. Dishes shattered, the table flipped, and the pot on the stove spilled, scalding water hissing against the chaos.
"Kael!" Mira's voice broke through the roar, her hand grabbing his arm, her nails digging into his skin. He stumbled, catching her as the house tilted, the ceiling splintering above them. A beam crashed down where his father had been standing, his shout cut off mid-breath. Kael's mother screamed, a sound of pure terror, as a wave of energy, raw, shimmering, and impossibly cold, burst through the walls. It lifted furniture like leaves in a storm, slamming the refrigerator against the counter and shattering the windows into a thousand glinting shards.
The energy wasn't just light; it was alive, crackling with violet and gold threads that pulsed. It tore through the house, pulling Mira upward as if gravity had reversed. Her grip on Kael slipped, her fingers clawing at his sleeve. "Kael, don't let go!" she cried, her voice breaking, her hazel eyes wide with fear. But the force was too strong. She was yanked into the collapsing roof, her body vanishing as a section of the wall caved in, burying the space where she'd been.
"Mira!" Kael screamed, lunging forward, but the floor gave way beneath him. He fell hard, his sketchbook skidding across the rubble, his hands scraping against broken wood and glass. The energy wave passed, leaving a hollow silence in its wake, but the destruction continued. The sky outside was no longer a sky, it was a fractured mosaic, the auroras now gaping wounds of light that bled into the darkness. Violet lightning arced downward, striking the ground with explosions of earth and fire. The air buzzed with static, heavy with the scent of ozone and something sharper, like molten metal.
Kael crawled through the wreckage, his breath ragged, his ears ringing. The house was gone, reduced to a skeleton of splintered beams and shattered memories. His father's boots stuck out from beneath a fallen wall, motionless. His mother's apron lay in a heap, stained with blood, her body nowhere to be seen. Kael's chest tightened, a sob catching in his throat as he reached for the apron, his fingers trembling.
Then he heard it—a whisper, soft and broken, cutting through the silence. "Don't forget me." Mira's voice, but not from the rubble, from inside his mind. He froze, his hand clutching the apron, his breath hitching. The whisper came again, clearer now, layered with her fear, her love, her regret. "Don't forget me, Kael. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Another voice joined it, his father's, gruff and fading. "Protect them, Kael. you hear me?" Then his mother's, a sob that broke his heart. "I love you both."
The voices multiplied, a chorus of the dead echoing through his skull, not just his family but others, neighbors, friends, strangers. "It hurts." "I don't want to die." "Where's my son?" Images flashed with the voices—his father reaching for him through the debris, his mother shielding Mira with her body, Mira clutching the sketchbook they'd drawn in together as children. Kael clutched his head, collapsing to his knees as the cacophony overwhelmed him. His vision blurred, his ears rang, and his body shook with the weight of their final moments.
Through the haze, something caught his eye, a glint in the rubble near his mother's apron. A Shard, no bigger than a coin, pulsed with violet light, its surface swirling with energy. It wasn't just a fragment; it felt alive, humming in sync with the fractured sky above. Kael's hand moved on instinct, reaching for it despite the voices screaming in his mind. His fingers brushed its surface, and the energy surged, a jolt that coursed through his veins like fire.
The voices spiked, a deafening roar that threatened to shatter his mind—then they slowed, aligning into a single thread. Mira's voice emerged, softer now, a plea wrapped in warmth. "Don't forget me." The Shard warmed in his hand, its light weaving into him, threading through the echoes until they became a manageable hum. Kael gasped, his vision clearing, the pain receding just enough for him to think.
He looked down at the Shard, then at the sketchbook lying a few feet away, its pages fluttering in the unnatural wind. The sky above roared again, a fresh wave of violet lightning illuminating the horizon. Shadows moved in the distance, monstrous shapes born from the Fracture, their forms twisting with too many limbs, their eyes glowing with hunger. Elden Hollow was gone, consumed by the chaos, and Kael was alone.
But not entirely. The echoes lingered, a tether to the lost, a burden he didn't understand. He clutched the Shard and the sketchbook, tears streaking his dust-covered face. The apocalypse had taken everything, but it had left him something in return, a power, a curse, a purpose. In the distance, a creature's roar shook the earth, its claws scraping against the fractured ground. Kael stood, the echoes guiding him, and took his first trembling step into the shattered world.
The Great Fracture was only the beginning.