Page 1 of Shardless

Prologue

As Breena sat on the garden wall, sipping her tea and watching the colors of the new day ignite on the horizon, she had no way of knowing that this would be the day that she died.

It was a day just like any other day, following the same rhythms and patterns. Breakfast, then lunch; she cleaned the kitchen and swept the floors. And since she was as of yet completely unaware of her impending demise, when the sun began to set, marking the end of another ordinary day filled with ordinary tasks, she was content with its mediocrity and the safety that being average provided.

The sky had already turned dark when Breena finally set down her quill. She stood carefully, her bones cracking in protest. The aether was noticeably thinner on the island, and most days, it left her feeling tired.

Shaking out her braid, she took a moment to survey the meager cottage. The scuffed wood floors and whitewashed walls were a far cry from theluxury of her youth, but she had managed to make the space comfortable. The rugs may have been threadbare, but they warded off the chill of the morning, and the quilts on the beds, though secondhand, were soft from age.

The little garden beyond the open window was just beginning to bloom, and sprays of snowdrops and irises blanketed the ground outside. In this small, isolated town on the western coast of the island of Tempris, a cottage with its own garden was a rarity. Most of the villages in the region, though not lacking for space, were packed tightly together. The nights could be dangerous, especially when the gates were charging.

A peal of laughter rang out, and Breena smiled, stepping over to the window to observe the dynamic force of kinetic energy that was her daughter. A man with auburn hair and a plain canvas coat was trying to herd the rebellious child inside, but the little bundle of scraped knees and golden curls was having none of it. She kept darting in between his outstretched arms, disappearing and reappearing at will. First, in front of him, her tongue sticking out in a playful taunt, then behind him with a barely suppressed giggle.

Breena frowned.Oh dear.

It seemed Cori’s magic was progressing more quickly than they expected—which meant that even more of the girl’s aether would need to be locked away.

A familiar pang of guilt fluttered in her chest. Breena hated to do it, even if it was necessary. Until they could smuggle the girl through the Aion Gate and into the mortal cities, they needed to stay hidden, and taking away Cori’s magic was a smallprice to pay.

The man still hadn’t managed to capture the elusive child, so Breena called out in a forceful tone, “Corinna! It’s time to come inside.”

Her six-year-old daughter’s silvery gray eyes searched for the source of the reproach, and a mournful pout blossomed across the girl’s face when she saw her mother’s stern expression. Surrendering, Cori allowed herself to be escorted inside the cottage. Breena was still amazed at how much her daughter was starting to resemble her. When the girl was older, they might very well be twins.

Breena took one last glance at her desk. Five wine-colored crystals sat inside a circle of faintly glowing runes, each one pulling in aether from the air and storing it away for a time when it might be needed. She knew she was being overly cautious, but she wanted her supply of shadow crystals fully charged just in case they needed to run.

She studied the various items scattered across the desk, plucking a half-empty inkwell from the clutter. Blood caked the sides and congealed at the bottom, turning black as it dried.

Holding her hand over the pot, she began to channel what was left of her magic, and slowly, the remaining fluid started to glow and roil before dissolving into the air.

A wispy, crackling haze of energy now hovered beneath her outstretched palm.

Breena took a moment to admire the apparition. Raw aether. As a shadow mage, her magical ability was tied to the manipulation of the very building blocks of magic. She waved her hand and felt the aether particles dance around her fingers, prickling her skin.

Placing the now empty inkwell into a small wooden chest, she waved the cloud over her other hand, where a large, half-healed gash traveled the length of her palm. The haze seemed to hang in the air around the cut before reabsorbing into her body, seeping into her veins and bolstering her depleted reserve of magic. She watched as her skin slowly knitted itself back together before kneading the unmarred flesh. Only a dull ache remained.

A thundering patter of footsteps echoed from downstairs, and Breena quickly put away the rest of her supplies—various quills, loose leaves of paper, and a small, ceremonial dagger her older brother had gifted her when they were children.

“Mommy! Mommy!” A small bundle hurdled its way up the stairs and into her arms. “Wanna see my new trick?” The little girl smiled, revealing a row of delicate baby teeth.

Breena couldn’t help but smile back. While she knew she needed to teach her daughter to be more sensible with her magical abilities, she couldn’t resist the contagious joy in the girl’s expression. “I saw it already. But sweetie, I’ve told you before—you shouldn’t use your magic outside the cottage. Your Uncle Esmund is going to stop taking you into the forest if you don’t behave.”

Cori, unfazed by her mother’s gentle reproach, patted the older woman’s cheek. “No. Not that one, silly. I learned anewtrick.” Jumping out of Breena’s arms, she ran over to Esmund as he crested the stairs.

Though still quite young to be a Knight of the Crystal Guard, the faint weblike network of scars across the man’s cheeks and brow made him seem older than his mere 3,200 years. Like most members of his order, he kept his reddish haircropped close to his head and his beard neatly trimmed.

As he turned the corner of the stairs, Breena could see the subtle, pointed tips of his ears, an indisputable indicator of his fey parentage. He smiled indulgently at the small girl as she clung to his leg, handing her a glass jar. A single, blue butterfly flitted about inside.

“Watch, mommy.” Chubby hands clumsily unscrewed the lid. As the butterfly rushed to escape the confines of its glass prison, the girl extended her arm, and a look of rapt concentration screwed up her delicate features.

After a few moments, the air began to crackle with energy, slow at first but building in strength and intensity. A golden fog formed around the child’s outstretched palm as she summoned her aether, and the magic rippled through the air, weaving itself around the butterfly. Cori waggled her fingers, and the tiny insect abruptly froze mid-flight, entangled, suspended and motionless, in a web of flickering, gilded threads.

Cori giggled as she deftly twirled her arm, and the butterfly blinked out of existence. Breena followed her daughter’s eyes to the far side of the room, where the butterfly now continued its frenzied dance, its movements speeding up and then slowing down like a dancer that couldn’t quite find the tempo. Another wave of the child’s hand and the butterfly could do nothing but obey, sluggishly retracing its path through the air until it settled back into the jar. The haze of sparkling aether dissipated as time once more found its correct rhythm.

Breena clapped excitedly as her daughter bounced at her mother’s feet, thoroughly satisfiedwith her performance. “Fantastic! You’ll be ready for your first crystals soon!” While the child was preoccupied with the quivering insect, Breena shared a worried glance with Esmund. Then, taking the jar, she stepped over to the open window to let the butterfly escape into the still night air, saying over her shoulder, “Alright, my dear. I think that’s enough for today. Time for bed.”

On cue, the small girl squealed theatrically. “No! No. I don’t want to go to bed. I’m not…” A large yawn cut off the rest of the sentence, effectively silencing the child’s desperate plea.

Breena leaned down to look her daughter in the eye. “Go peacefully, and you can take your bath tomorrow.”

---