The cracked sky was quiet that morning — too quiet.
The monks of Eyrith Temple spoke in hushed tones, fearful of the omen from the night before. Some swore they saw the heavens blink. Others whispered that divine wrath had marked the mountain.
Only Cled sat calmly on the stone steps, hands folded, eyes closed.
He could still feel the warmth of the relic within his chest, pulsing faintly like a second heart. The whispers from that strange realm still echoed in his mind, fragments of thought not his own.
> Seek the Nine Realms of Sky... where the fragments lie...
The words had no sound, yet they vibrated through his soul as though the world itself had spoken.
He breathed slowly, drawing in the mist that coiled through the morning air. Around him, faint strands of energy drifted — unseen to ordinary eyes, but to him they shimmered like threads of moonlight.
He had always sensed the world differently. Now, that difference had become unbearable clarity.
---
"Cled," a voice interrupted gently.
He opened his eyes to see Elder Ruthar standing beside him, his gnarled hands clutching a wooden staff.
"The abbot wishes to see you," the elder said, his tone hesitant.
Cled nodded silently and rose. The stone under his feet felt heavier than usual — or perhaps it was his heart.
---
Inside the Hall of Stillness, the air was cool and perfumed with sandalwood. The Abbot of Eyrith, a man who had lived through three emperors, sat cross-legged before the shrine. His eyes were half-closed, yet Cled could feel the sharpness behind them.
"Sit," the Abbot said softly.
Cled obeyed.
The silence stretched until it felt like a weight pressing on his chest. Then the Abbot spoke:
"Last night, the heavens opened. The relic of the ancients descended upon our valley. And you — a mere boy — survived its light."
"I did not seek it," Cled replied quietly.
"That may be," the Abbot said, "but such fortune does not fall without reason. Tell me, Cled — what did you see?"
Cled hesitated. The memory of the celestial figure, the echoing voice, the promise of nine realms — it all felt too vast for words.
"I saw truth," he said finally.
The Abbot's brow furrowed. "Truth?"
Cled's voice was calm, almost detached. "That the heavens themselves are wounded. And that the relic was not wrath, but a cry for help."
Ruthar gasped softly, but the Abbot merely watched him with ancient eyes.
"Do you know," he said at last, "that the Heaven's Heart has been lost since the Fall of the Immortals? Even the greatest sects have failed to trace its fragments."
"I do now," Cled said simply.
The Abbot leaned forward. "You are either blessed… or cursed."
"Perhaps both," Cled murmured.
The Abbot's expression softened, then turned solemn. "The relic's power will draw eyes from every corner of the world. The Emperors of the East, the Sky Monks of Jural, even the Holy Seers — all seek the same relic. You cannot remain here."
Ruthar stiffened. "Abbot! You mean to cast him out?"
"Not cast out," the Abbot said quietly. "But released."
He turned his gaze to Cled. "You must go beyond the mountains. Find the truth of this relic, and perhaps mend what was broken. But remember, Cled — wisdom is not born of power, but restraint. The heavens reward balance, not pride."
Cled bowed deeply. "Then I will walk in silence."
The Abbot nodded, his eyes reflecting faint sorrow. "Then may silence guide you."
---
By dusk, Cled stood at the temple's gate. His robe was plain, his bag light, his gaze unwavering. Elder Ruthar waited beside him, his eyes red with unshed tears.
"You remind me of your first day here," Ruthar said. "A storm that carried a boy, now a storm that carries him away."
Cled smiled faintly. "All storms end where they began, Elder."
Ruthar pressed something into his hand — a small wooden bead, polished smooth with age.
"It belonged to your teacher," he said. "He once said you'd surpass even him, though I doubted it. Now I see he was right."
Cled bowed deeply. "Thank you… for giving me a place to belong, even if only for a while."
Ruthar turned away, unwilling to show tears. "Go before I change my mind."
And so, under the cracked and fading sky, Cled left Eyrith Temple — the only home he had ever known.
---
The world beyond was vast. Mountains stretched like sleeping dragons, valleys hummed with unseen power, and ancient ruins whispered of gods who once ruled the heavens.
On his third night of travel, Cled found himself beside a river that shimmered faintly blue under starlight. The water sang — not like music, but like memory.
As he sat cross-legged by the riverbank, he closed his eyes. Within his chest, the relic stirred.
Then the whispers came again.
> Heaven's Heart… nine fragments… each guarded by those who forgot their names…
Seek not strength, but the silence that holds it.
The first lies where reflection meets the sky.
Cled frowned slightly. "Reflection meets the sky?"
He looked at the river's surface. It reflected the cracked heavens above — a mirror of broken light.
Slowly, he rose and stepped into the water. Ripples spread outward, distorting the stars' reflections. Yet beneath the surface, something gleamed — faintly golden, like a sliver of the sun.
He reached down. The moment his hand touched the light, the river vanished.
---
He stood in a void. Water droplets hung motionless around him, glowing faintly. A voice spoke — deep, old, and filled with the weight of centuries.
> "So the successor of Heaven's Heart has come."
Before him, a monk of light appeared, his form flickering like flame. His robes shimmered between gold and white, his face hidden by an endless shadow.
Cled bowed slightly. "Are you the guardian of this fragment?"
> "Guardian?" the figure echoed. "No. I am its prisoner."
Chains of light coiled around the monk's arms, disappearing into nothingness. Each link pulsed with energy.
> "A thousand years I have held the reflection of heaven," the monk said. "Until one with wisdom beyond strength would arrive."
Cled's gaze was steady. "Then release yourself."
The monk smiled faintly. "Easier said than done. These chains are not forged of metal — they are woven from regret."
Cled stepped closer. "Then they cannot be broken by force."
> "You understand," the monk murmured, his voice softening. "Most who came before you tried to shatter the chains. You… listen."
Cled extended a hand. "Let me share your silence."
The monk's eyes, faint beneath the glow, widened slightly. For the first time in ages, someone had offered not pity, not command — but understanding.
The world trembled. The chains around him began to dissolve, not broken, but accepted.
The monk whispered, "So that is the way of the Sky Path… not conquest, but harmony."
The last chain faded into light, merging into Cled's chest. The glow within him brightened — another fragment of Heaven's Heart.
The monk smiled, fading like morning mist.
> "May the heavens tremble not from wrath, but from awakening."
---
Cled found himself standing once more by the river. The water was calm, moonlight resting gently upon it.
He looked down at his reflection. For the first time, he saw faint lines glowing beneath his skin — markings shaped like constellations.
He touched the glow and whispered, "The first realm… reflection."
The relic pulsed softly in agreement.
He gazed toward the distant horizon, where mountains met clouds, and the cracked sky loomed vast and unhealed.
"The next fragment," he murmured, "waits where silence hides in sound."
The wind carried his words away, and the heavens above shimmered faintly — as if listening.