The shard’s hum was quieter now, less insistent than the night before. Its rhythm matched the steady beat of my heart as I moved through the familiar halls of Veylora Keep. My body still ached from the latest infusion, but beneath the soreness was a sense of strength—subtle but growing.

Every step felt lighter and smoother. Even without sight, I could feel the changes in how I moved and carried myself. The shard was shaping me, weaving its energy into my very being. But the whispers hadn’t stopped.

The soldiers, the servants—everyone had always whispered about me. Not just because of my blindness but because of what had followed me since birth: my strange, undeniable connection to magic. Even as a child, they had noticed. Candles flickering when I was upset. The air grew still when I was frightened. My father had called it a curse. My mother had called it a gift. But for me, it had always been both.

The training yard was subdued that morning. The usual clang of steel on steel was absent, replaced by the softer sounds of drills. I paused at the edge, my cane tapping lightly against the packed dirt as I oriented myself. The shard pulsed faintly in my chest, sharpening my awareness.

“Not sparring today, little brother?” Aric’s voice came from somewhere to my left. I turned slightly, focusing on the faint vibrations of his footsteps as he approached. His tone was lighter than usual, though still laced with his usual arrogance.

“I’m not here for you,” I replied evenly. “I wanted to watch.”

“Watch?” He let out a sharp laugh. “You mean listen.”

I didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, I tilted my head, focusing on the movements of the soldiers in the yard. Their steps were hesitant, their strikes cautious. The air was heavy with tension. Something had shifted since yesterday, though I couldn’t say what.

“Father’s summoned the council,” Aric said after a moment, his tone quieter. “They’ve been in the Great Hall since dawn.”

The shard pulsed faintly, its rhythm sharpening as the words settled in. “What for?”

Aric hesitated. “Something about the eastern border. Father didn’t tell me much.”

I nodded, my grip tightening on the cane. “I’ll find out.”

I rarely ventured into the Great Hall. Its high ceilings and cold stone walls carried voices in strange ways, making it harder to pinpoint who was speaking or where they were standing. But as I approached the heavy wooden doors, the shard’s energy shifted, sharpening my senses.

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The voices were muffled at first, their tones tense and clipped. I pushed the door open just enough to slip inside, staying close to the wall as I moved. My father’s voice was the first I recognised—low and commanding, as always.

“We cannot afford to wait,” he said sharply. “If the reports are true, we must act now.”

“What reports?” I asked, my voice cutting through the room. The council fell silent. I felt the weight of their stares, their discomfort palpable.

“Caelan,” my father said after a long pause. “This is not your concern.”

“Anything that threatens our house is my concern,” I replied, stepping forward. My cane tapped against the stone floor, the sound echoing faintly. “What’s happening?”

There was another pause, and then someone cleared their throat. “The eastern border,” one of the councilmen said hesitantly. “Villages have been disappearing. Entire settlements, gone without a trace.”

“Gone?” The word hung in the air, heavy with implication. “What could do that?”

“That’s what we intend to find out,” my father said curtly. “But it’s a matter for the council, not you.”

“Let him stay,” another voice said, older and calmer. It was Lord Dorian, one of my father’s advisors. “The boy may lack sight, but he doesn’t lack intelligence—or magic.”

The room fell silent again. The weight of Dorian’s words lingered, the unspoken truth hanging heavily in the air. Even as a child, my affinity for magic had set me apart. The flickering lights and the strange calm I could summon had been impossible to ignore. And now, with the shard, that connection was becoming something far greater. Far more dangerous.

My father let out a sharp sigh. “Fine. But stay quiet, Caelan.”

I listened carefully as the council continued their discussion, piecing together the fragments of information they shared. The disappearances were recent—two villages in the span of a week. There were no survivors, no signs of struggle. It was as if the people had simply vanished.

As the voices drifted on, the shard’s hum grew sharper. I clenched my fist, the medallion warm against my chest. There was something about this—something that felt wrong, unnatural.

“Magic,” I said quietly, cutting through the conversation. The room fell silent again.

“What did you say?” my father asked, his tone wary.

“These disappearances... it’s not natural. It’s magic,” I said, my voice steady. “I can feel it.”

There was a murmur of disbelief, but Lord Dorian’s voice rose above the rest. “He may be right. Such things have been known to happen, though it has been centuries since magic of that scale was seen.”

My father’s voice was sharp. “Speculation won’t help us. We need answers.”

“Then send me,” I said, the words out before I could stop them.

The council erupted into murmurs, their voices blending into a cacophony of objections. I stood still, letting their protests wash over me. The shard’s hum sharpened its energy, providing a quiet assurance in the chaos.

“Enough,” my father said, his voice cutting through the noise. The room fell silent once more. “You would have me send you into danger, blind and untrained?”

“I’m not untrained,” I said evenly. “And I’m not helpless. If this is magic, I may be the only one who can sense it.”

My father was silent for a long moment. Finally, he spoke, his tone cold. “Very well. But you will not go alone.”

Later that evening, I sat in the library, my thoughts racing. The shard’s hum was quieter now, though still present, its rhythm steady as I tried to understand what had happened. The disappearances, the council’s fear, and my father’s reluctance all pointed to something larger, something I couldn’t yet see.

Master Briar’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You’ve set something in motion, haven’t you?”

I nodded, my fingers brushing against the medallion. “I didn’t have a choice. If this is magic, I need to understand it.”

“Then be careful,” Briar said, his tone heavy with warning. “The shard’s power may guide you but cannot protect you from everything.”

“I’ll manage,” I said quietly. But even as I spoke, I couldn’t shake the feeling that the shard was leading me toward something far more significant and dangerous than I’d ever imagined.