They called Lightmere the kingdom of truth.
Not because it had none to hide — but because here, even lies were recorded.
White towers lined the horizon, etched with mirrored crystal that shimmered in daylight and glowed faintly at dusk. Scroll-bridges floated midair between observatories, humming softly with Shard resonance. Streets whispered with the footsteps of scholars, Watchers, and Lorekeepers — all bound to truth, knowledge, and the price it demanded.
In Lightmere, Shards weren't just power. They were doctrine. They were identity.
And at the heart of the Scholar's Court sat House Valeborne, one of Lightmere's oldest Crowned families. Bloodline traced back to the first Light Shard wielders. Their crest — an open eye above a split sun — was carved into academy gates and Watcher armor alike.
The Valebornes were power, polished and silent.
• Elandor Valeborne, the eldest, stood as Bonded-VI of Light, able to draw truths from silence and compel lies to reveal themselves. Revered as a future Lorekeeper Prime, he was both revered and feared.
• Kaelin Valeborne, the second-born, trained with the Watchers — a Sparked-V Shardblade tactician whose calm mind dissected battlefield and courtroom alike. His judgments were swift. Final.
• Lyssa Valeborne, the third child, still a student, but already Crowned-I in Memory Shard manipulation. Her mind was a vault of voices. Her illusions made or unmade reputations in the scholar halls.
And then… Auren.
Eighteen. Shardless. Branded before he could even walk.
They said the Shards chose no one — they resonated. But Auren had lived his life without even a flicker. No hum. No call. Not even the faint ache others described when near a compatible Shard.
To House Valeborne, Auren was a courtesy at best — an unfortunate footnote. His father, Lord Theron, addressed him only during official functions. His mother, Lady Iridia, simply offered him silence dressed as patience. His siblings… rarely looked his way.
And the rest of Lightmere followed suit.
Among the noble houses, House Valeborne's rivals — like House Syrel, House Dorneth, and House Mirien — spoke of Auren with mocking grace:
"A Valeborne without a Shard? Perhaps he's waiting for a Voidglass—ha!"
Some pitied him. Most didn't bother. In a kingdom that prized truth, his existence was an unanswered question — and unanswered questions were dangerous.
Still, Auren lingered in the corners of great halls. He sat through lectures not meant for him. He watched drills meant for Watchers and read texts locked behind sigils he wasn't supposed to know how to open.
Because though the world saw a flaw… Auren saw a pattern.
Something in the way the Shards were shifting lately — the way old ones were losing strength, and new, dull fragments were appearing in border markets. Shards that didn't hum. Shards that didn't bond. Shards that… waited.
And that morning, as he stood beneath the crystal archway overlooking the distant shimmer of the Shardgrave, something inside him twitched. A soft ache, as if something just beyond his reach had called his name — not loudly, but like a memory returning.
No one else noticed.
But Auren's fingers curled slightly, and for the first time, he thought:
Maybe you don't choose Shards…
Unless the world breaks.
Then maybe… you do.
[End of Chapter 1]