Chapter 56 – The Shard Court Moves
Deep within the upper heavens, beyond the clouds of mortal memory, stood the Shard Court — a palace of glass and judgment. Every wall shimmered with translucent light, each facet reflecting a different version of truth. The air hummed with power — cold, clinical, and absolute.
The Shard Court Judge sat upon the crystalline dais, surrounded by nine other fragmentary silhouettes. They were not gods in the traditional sense; they were remnants — divine algorithms forged during the Heavenly Reformation to enforce law when faith itself fractured.
The Judge's voice, smooth and metallic, echoed through the chamber.
"Report on Bureau of Divine Administration—incident log: Forbidden Manual breach."
A scribe-spirit floated forward, quill trembling. "Yes, my lord. Unauthorized entities detected — Assistant Yue and Intern Ne Job. Witnessed the containment breach involving Shard-Entity Zero-One. Attempted to resist memory audit. Situation escalated."
The Judge's eyes flared with pale light. "Outcome?"
"Unknown. Last signal indicates Lord Xian has initiated containment protocol. Bureau integrity compromised in sector seven."
The chamber rippled with uneasy murmurs. One of the shard silhouettes leaned forward, its voice distorted.
"Lord Xian was granted temporary authority — not full custodial command. If he's invoking containment personally, that means…"
"That he's acting beyond his mandate," the Judge finished coldly.
A silence hung in the air like a drawn blade.
Another voice spoke — calm, elegant, but with undertones of static:
"He's accelerating the Rebirth Directive without our sanction."
The Judge's crystalline fingers drummed the armrest. "So it begins, then. The Administrator seeks to rewrite the divine hierarchy while we still audit the old one."
"Should we intervene?" asked one fragment. "Or allow the system to purge itself?"
The Judge's expression remained unreadable. "Neither. Intervention at this stage risks collapse. But containment is… acceptable."
He gestured to the scribe-spirit. "Issue immediate directives: memory audit expansion to all Bureau personnel, starting from Assistant Yue's department. All lower archives are to be sealed under Directive 404 — Lost Faith Protocol. No witnesses, no records, no loose data."
The scribe hesitated. "And what of Ne Job, my lord? His clearance level is unregistered, but his spiritual signature—"
The Judge's voice sharpened like broken glass. "Erase him."
At that command, a dozen sigils flared across the Court floor, forming intricate diagrams — a divine execution order disguised as bureaucratic procedure.
But one of the fragments — the smallest, voice trembling with hesitation — spoke up.
"Forgive my intrusion, but… the intern's spirit pattern does not conform to standard mortal profiles. It contains traces of… anomaly. Something ancient."
The Judge turned sharply. "Clarify."
"I compared it to the Archive of Pre-Formation Entities. There's a 73% match with the data signature of the Chaos Spark—a remnant essence from the early rebellion against divine law."
For the first time, the chamber grew truly silent. The Shard Judge's fingers froze mid-motion.
"Impossible. The Chaos Spark was destroyed millennia ago."
"Or so the records claim," the fragment whispered.
The Judge's light dimmed, pulsing with unease. "Then Lord Xian's actions… may not be rebellion. They may be containment."
A pause. Then:
"Prepare a dual investigation. One official, one hidden. The Bureau's public version will record Yue and Ne Job as rogue agents. The secret version…"
The Judge's crystalline face cracked faintly — the divine equivalent of a frown.
"…will trace the truth of the intern's origin."
The fragments nodded silently. The Shard Court's light dimmed to near darkness, the sound of scribes recording decrees echoing like falling glass.
And as the session adjourned, the Judge stared at his reflection in the mirrored floor — a reflection that wasn't quite his own.
"Chaos spark… if you've truly returned," he murmured,
"then perhaps the heavens were never reformed at all."