The morning in Veilspire felt different. Not brighter, not warmer—just heavier. A silence had settled over the city, thick and expectant, as if the air itself were holding its breath. Arin moved through the streets, shard pulsating in his palm. Each beat seemed to echo a secret buried deep within the world, whispering of truths too vast for one mind to contain.
He had survived the Keepers' trial and sworn the Oath. Yet, a lingering unease tugged at him. The shard's whispers had grown more insistent, more urgent: "Seek the fragments… uncover the truth… the village… the pact…"
Return to the Forgotten Village
Arin's thoughts drifted back to the village that had vanished. The memory, though faint and fragmented, clawed at him with a gnawing intensity. The black shard in his hand throbbed violently, almost as if sensing the pull of its origin.
He returned to the outskirts of the city, where the world seemed to fray. Reality flickered at the edges of his vision, and soon, he stood before a place that shouldn't exist anymore: the ruins of the Forgotten Village.
Buildings half-formed and half-erased hovered between reality and nothingness. Dusty fragments of walls flickered in and out of sight. The central well, the collapsed roofs, even the stele at the gate—shimmered, then dissolved.
The shard pulsed, guiding him to the center of the village. There, the remnants of his childhood memories coalesced into ghostly echoes: laughter, warmth, grief. Faces blurred, yet familiar, stared back at him through the veil of erasure.
"Not all that is erased is lost… Seek the Eighth," his mother's voice whispered in his mind.
And now, he understood. The Eighth was not just a symbol. It was the key to understanding why the village had been obliterated—and why he alone remained.
The Revelation
Kneeling at the ghostly remnants of the village square, Arin placed the shard on the cracked stones. It pulsed, then expanded its glow, projecting visions into his mind:
The village had not simply disappeared. It had been erased by a fragmented entity known as Secrets, a being of incomprehensible power that split itself into seven pieces across reality.
His mother had tried to protect him by leaving him the shard—the first fragment—knowing it would anchor him against erasure.
Each fragment held the consciousness and will of Secrets, but incomplete. They were both teacher and jailer, guiding bearers like Arin through trials that tested their mind, soul, and resolve.
Arin's heart pounded. The truth hit him: the village's erasure had not been punishment. It had been preparation. Every event in his life had been orchestrated to awaken him as a Bearer of Secrets, a key to the fragments' ultimate reunion.
The Fractured Pact
The shard pulsed again, and the air around him thickened. A voice—neither fully male nor female, young nor old—echoed within his mind:
"Bearer… you have seen the truth. Yet understanding alone is not enough. You must forge the pact fully. Only then will the fragments reveal their power."
Arin's breath caught. The weight of choice pressed upon him. Fully binding to Secrets would grant him immense abilities: manipulation of time, space, and memory itself. Yet failure or hesitation could erase him, as it had countless others.
Blood welled in his palm, involuntarily pressing against the shard. The symbols writhed, eyes forming and blinking, staring into his soul. The shard's pulse grew stronger, faster, syncing with his heartbeat.
He remembered his mother's last words: "Not all that is erased is lost…"
And he knew. He could not turn back.
"I accept," he whispered, voice trembling yet firm. "I will bear the secrets… I will endure."
The shard flared violently, enveloping him in blinding black and violet light. Pain, energy, and visions surged through him:
Memories of people and places he never knew, erased from the world yet preserved within the fragments.
Battles fought by ancient beings, wielding shards and symbols beyond comprehension.
Whispers of betrayals, alliances, and cosmic contracts older than the empires themselves.
When the light faded, Arin stood transformed. The shard now lay embedded in his chest, glowing faintly beneath his skin. He felt power coursing through him—not just strength, but awareness, perception, and influence over the world itself.
He had become more than a Bearer. He was an Oathkeeper of Secrets, bound to a fractured entity with seven consciousnesses scattered across reality.
First Mastery of the Shard
Arin tested his new abilities cautiously. The shadows around the village bent subtly at his will. Dust and fragments lifted, reorganizing into temporary structures that mimicked reality. He reached out with the shard's power and glimpsed the streams of time and memory tied to the village.
He could sense erased lives.
He could touch remnants of objects long vanished.
He could glimpse faint echoes of the fragments' other consciousnesses across the world.
The shard whispered, guiding him: "The village was the first lesson. Others await. The Keepers… the Academy… the hidden paths… all lead to the reunion. All lead to power… or oblivion."
The Shadow of the Keepers
Even as he explored, Arin sensed eyes upon him. Not the Keepers he had faced directly, but watchers—those who understood the fragments' true potential. From rooftops and hidden chambers, cloaked figures monitored him, ready to act if he misused the shard's power.
A chill ran through him. The journey ahead would not be solitary. Allies might appear. Enemies would strike. And above all, the fragmented entity of Secrets watched, shaping reality through subtle nudges and catastrophic tests.
Departure
Arin left the ruins of the village behind, but its lessons were indelibly etched in his mind. The shard pulsed steadily in his chest, a constant reminder of his pact, his duty, and the truth he now carried.
He turned toward the horizon. Veilspire's twisting streets awaited, along with the Academy, the Keepers, and the countless challenges he had yet to face. The fragments would not remain silent forever, and the secrets he bore would demand action, courage, and cunning beyond anything he had yet imagined.
With a final glance back at the ghostly village, he whispered:
"This… is only the beginning."
The air shifted. Shadows flickered. And in the unseen corners of reality, pieces of Secrets stirred, anticipating the path of their Oathkeeper.