My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy-Chapter 227: River’s fall

Elias let out a breath—not through lungs, not physically. Just a mental release, like air pushed through thought.

"True," he said. "But knowing my luck, fighting’s not far off."

He didn’t push against it. Just closed his eyes again.

The sway of the bassinet pulled him down.

When he woke, the world had shifted again.

The calendar above him read Goldfall. The 15th was circled in blue ink. Three full months gone.

Ninety days.

The air felt different—drier, cooler, like the outside world had pulled its breath inward. A breeze carried in scents that didn’t belong to summer anymore. Dried leaves. Cured meat. Something earthy.

The room hadn’t changed, but it felt smaller.

More defined.

His body had weight now. Muscles had form. He shifted one arm toward the edge of the bassinet and pushed, slow and deliberate. The motion came stiff, but it was real. His elbow locked. His wrist held. The edge met his palm.

He didn’t collapse.

He trembled.

But he held.

A dull ache buzzed through his arm. It faded into something else—a colder sensation under the skin.

The shard.

Still buried in his shoulder, sharp and unnatural. It pulsed now, faint but rhythmic. A second heartbeat layered underneath his own. Not painful. Just present.

Always there.

Across the room, Seraphine sat with her back straight, a needle flashing between her fingers. A small tunic rested in her lap, threads catching the morning light. Her posture was relaxed, but her eyes stayed focused. There was a steadiness to the way she worked, like she’d been sewing through every season of her life.

Torren lay stretched out nearby, legs kicking gently as he stacked wooden blocks into a teetering tower. His lips moved as he spoke to himself, voice low and serious.

"Monster barricades," he mumbled, adjusting a crooked piece. "Fortified structure. Two layers."

Another shape toddled into view.

Eldrian—still pudgy, probably no more than two—chased something across the floor. A small creature darted just ahead of him. Fur bristled. Ears tall and tufted. The thing’s tail flicked wildly as it tried to stay ahead of the toddler’s uneven charge.

Jitter.

The feraline hissed and bolted under the table. freeweɓnovel~cѳm

A clay cup clattered to the floor behind it and shattered with a flat crack.

"Eldrian!"

Seraphine’s voice cut through the room—not angry, but firm enough to pull attention.

"Leave Jitter alone before she scratches you."

She set the tunic aside, needle pinned neatly into the cloth, and stood. Her steps were quick but balanced. Not rushed. Just... tired.

Eldrian squealed, ducking as her arms closed around him. His dark curls bounced wildly, legs kicking in delight as she lifted him off the floor. The chase had clearly been the point. Being caught only made it better.

Torren glanced up from his tower. No reaction beyond a slow blink and an eye roll.

He didn’t say anything, but his fingers hovered uncertainly over the top piece.

The whole stack swayed once.

Then he added another block anyway.

Elias watched it all unfold, breath slow, mind finally catching up.

Torren’s the heir. Eldrian’s the troublemaker.

He logged the roles like a scout taking inventory. Not from affection. Not yet.

He needed to know the terrain.

If he was going to make it to the capital on foot with nothing but a toddler’s body, he’d need help. Allies. Leverage. It started here, in this house, long before his legs could carry him across a street, let alone a continent.

Then the shard pulsed.

This time it didn’t hum. It bit.

A sharp flicker stabbed beneath his skin, like a thin needle dragging under muscle. He winced—barely able to move, but the reflex twitched through his jaw and neck all the same.

What is this thing?

He didn’t have an answer. Just the crucifix’s voice lingering at the edges—soul energy. Buried networks. Gemstone constructs tied to a system older than the surface it hid beneath.

Is this shard part of that? Or something worse?

The ache in his shoulder didn’t answer. It just echoed. A dull throb, syncing again with his heartbeat.

Across the room, the quiet continued. Seraphine moved with practiced calm, Eldrian’s laughter dimming as she hushed him gently and guided him to a stool. No yelling. No scolding. Just rhythm.

But Gavric wasn’t there.

The absence didn’t just feel like silence. It felt like something missing from the walls.

The sound of leather. The weight of his voice. That wide grin and careless strength.

Elias felt it—not as Veyren. Not as a baby.

As himself.

The boy who’d grown up staring after a man who was never really home. On Cradle Planet, Gavric had only existed in shadows and stories. And now...

He’s alive, the crucifix had said.

That sentence wouldn’t let go. It clung like a splinter under the skin. Not quite pain. But close.

He wanted to ask. Needed to ask.

But the mouth he had didn’t know how to shape the words yet. And no one in this room was ready to hear the questions he carried.

Dot’s voice flicked back into his head like a blinking light.

"You’re thinking too hard, Elias."

Her tone was airy. But there was something buried underneath it.

"Look at Torren’s tower. Kid’s got no sense of balance."

The block wobbled again. Torren held his breath, eyes narrowed in intense concentration. His tongue stuck out slightly.

"He’s stubborn," Elias thought, watching the last block slip.

It wobbled once.

Then the tower gave out.

Torren’s eyes widened. His mouth opened like he might catch it with a breath alone—but it was already gone. Wood clattered against the floorboards, and the boy’s face scrunched up in silent fury, cheeks darkening.

Like Kikaru, Elias added, the thought sharper than expected.

The name hit harder than he wanted it to.

Not just because of what she’d done in the arena—but because of what he’d done. The betrayal hadn’t just gone one way. He’d made his choice. She was carrying the other half of his shard now. Still breathing. Still fighting. At least, he hoped.

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