The Shard of Evernight

 

The Shard of Evernight

The stars above the kingdom of Eldoria flickered like candle flames, as if whispering secrets only the wind could understand. Deep within the Enshadowed Forest, a girl named Lys moved with purpose, her cloak damp with mist and her heart pounding against her ribs. The world had taken everything from her, but tonight, she would claim something in return.

She stepped through gnarled roots and tangled vines, following the ghostly blue glow in the distance. The tales spoke of a lake hidden at the heart of the forest—a place where time itself unravelled. It was here, beneath the water’s silver gleam, that the Shard of Evernight was said to rest. A relic older than kings, older than the world itself.

Lys stopped at the edge of the lake. The water shimmered unnaturally, pulsing like a living heart. The moment her foot brushed the shore, the ground trembled.

A voice, deep and ancient, rolled through the air like distant thunder.

"Who seeks the gift of the Evernight?"

Lys lifted her chin, steadying her breath. “One who has nothing left to lose.”

From the darkness of the trees, something stirred. A figure emerged, draped in tattered robes that flowed like liquid shadow. Its face remained hidden beneath a hood, but where eyes should have been, twin embers glowed dimly. Its fingers were mist and bone, its presence both ethereal and immense.

"The shard is not a gift, child. It is a curse."

Lys’s hands curled into fists. "Then why does it call to me?"

The hooded figure raised a hand, and the lake’s waters began to churn. Slowly, the surface parted, revealing something floating above the lakebed—a fragment of obsidian, swirling with the reflection of endless constellations. The shard pulsed, and Lys could feel it in her bones, resonating with her very soul.

"Because it knows what you truly desire," the figure murmured.

Visions swam before her eyes—her village, burned to cinders by the Crimson King’s army. The screams of her people. The blood staining the cobblestone streets. Her mother’s lifeless hand slipping from hers as the soldiers dragged her away. The world had turned its back on justice, but the shard… The shard offered something else.

Power.

The figure took a step closer. "You have come seeking vengeance. But the Evernight does not serve revenge—it devours."

Lys barely heard it. She was already reaching forward.

The instant her fingers brushed the shard, darkness erupted outward. A shockwave of black fire rolled across the water, swallowing the silver glow, reaching beyond the trees and into the very sky. Lys gasped as something cold and vast wrapped around her soul, sinking into her veins.

The stars above flickered. Then, one by one, they went out.

A silence deeper than death swallowed the world. The air turned still. Even the wind dared not breathe.

Then, the figure before her let out a hollow, echoing sigh.

"It is done."

Lys staggered backward, clutching her chest. Something inside her had changed. She could feel the weight of a thousand shadows pressing against her skin. The shard had become part of her, its presence pulsing like an extra heartbeat.

She turned to the robed figure, her voice hoarse. “What… what did I do?”

The figure bowed its head. “You have ended time.”

Lys’s breath hitched. Around her, the world seemed frozen in place. The trees no longer swayed. The ripples in the water no longer moved. Even the distant howl of a wolf remained trapped in a soundless, unmoving moment.

She had sought to stop the suffering. To stop the Crimson King.

She had stopped everything.

Her heart pounded, but no echo followed. Time had unravelled, and with it, the cycle of life and death. No more wars. No more pain. But also… no more sunrises. No more laughter.

No more change.

The hooded figure took a step back, its ember eyes dimming. “You are now the Keeper of Shadows,” it whispered. “Guardian of the Evernight.”

A pit opened in Lys’s stomach as she looked down at her hands, now wreathed in shifting darkness. She was no longer just a girl. She was something more—something ancient, eternal, and unchanging.

And she realized, with a creeping horror, that she could never undo what had been done.

The Evernight had begun.

And she was its prisoner.