My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy-Chapter 238: Kindred feelings

She stepped closer.

His knees gave, just slightly. She caught the weight before it crashed—one hand on his arm, the other guiding him down onto the edge of the medical cot.

Her grip was steady. But her voice wasn’t.

"It’s fine," she said, and the crack in her tone betrayed the words. "You’re still shaky. It’s been too long since you walked."

Elias let her steady him. Just for a breath. Then his hand brushed her arm—fleeting, deliberate. A touch that tried to say something without shaping it into sound.

He didn’t look up right away. His lungs still burned. The buzz of the ward pressed too hard against his skull.

But then—

Movement.

Just past her shoulder. Not a person. Not a shadow.

A shape.

Geometric. Floating. It flickered into being with a vapor trail curling like breath in cold air. Its form was boxy—stacked prisms and fractured squares, each edge lined in faint light, transparent as data glass.

His breath caught.

The thing hovered at Elara’s side, limbs twitching in digital stutters. Cubes. Her Ikona. But he hadn’t seen it before—not like this. Not with his soul energy still misaligned. Not with everything inside him ringing off-key from the crystal’s seal.

Its body distorted like a glitch in a screen. Bits of its form pixelated, caught mid-render. Every time it moved, it left a static echo in the air, like his vision couldn’t fully lock it in.

He blinked hard.

Still there.

The shard in his shoulder flared cold.

"Your... Ikona," he murmured. His voice barely made it out. The words felt too small against the surge of unease. "It’s..."

He didn’t finish.

Couldn’t.

The thing didn’t turn to him. It just watched Elara. Always her. Orbiting her like an idea, not a creature. And somewhere in the back of his mind, a pulse from Dot flickered—cautious, dim, not quite awake, but aware enough to recoil.

Elara shifted slightly, noting the way his breath hitched. She followed his gaze and realized.

"You’ve never seen it," she said, tone softening. "Not fully."

Elias gave a slight nod. Even that motion strained the tendons in his neck.

"It doesn’t like showing itself unless I’m—" she hesitated "—guarded. You scared me in that arena, Elias."

He swallowed.

The Ikona shimmered again, its form fragmenting along the edges, then pulling back into cohesion. Like it didn’t belong here. Or maybe like he didn’t.

"Yeah," he whispered. "I scared myself too."

Elara glanced at Cubes. Her lips twitched.

He’s seeing it now? The thought brushed past a quiet pulse of worry, softened by relief she didn’t fully trust.

Cubes hovered at her side, its fractured geometry suspended in a shimmer of translucent static. The voice slid into her mind without effort, a cool ripple pressed against thought.

"Easy," it murmured. "His soul’s frayed. Don’t push."

She gave the smallest nod and shifted her focus.

Elias hadn’t moved. But something in his posture said he wasn’t seeing the room anymore.

"It’s just Cubes," she said, keeping her voice level. "Been with me since the shards hit. You’ll get used to it."

The response didn’t come.

His eyes stayed distant, caught in something she couldn’t reach.

The sterile hum of the ward blurred. Light warped.

Terraced cliffs pulled into view—red-roofed homes stacked along the edge of Giselsin’s rise, basking beneath a sky brushed in pink and gold. Wind curled through the stone streets below. The warmth of it felt real. Familiar.

Hands cradled him. Seraphine’s hands. Her voice low and steady:

"You’re as beautiful as my other boys."

The name wasn’t his. Not here. But it was his, somewhere.

Veyren.

The warmth didn’t belong. Not in this room. Not inside the echo of Cube X.

Elias blinked.

The light shifted back—harsh, sterile, unyielding. Tile. Steel. The sting of ozone.

The shard in his shoulder throbbed, syncing with something deeper than memory. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

He stayed still.

Didn’t speak.

I can’t tell her yet.

The thought held weight. Not fear. Just... restraint. The kind that sank into bone.

Not until I understand. Not until the crucifix’s silver eyes stopped watching from the spaces between dreams

"It’s only been two days since the crystal," he said, brow furrowing. The timeline didn’t line up. Not with what he’d lived. "I... I don’t know what’s happened since. You never reached out after I left the military. It was too brutal, too fast. I always hoped we’d cross paths again, though."

Elara lowered herself beside him. The bed shifted beneath the added weight, frame creaking with age. Cubes drifted closer in response, vapor curling as it released a soft hiss into the air. Temperature equalized—just a degree, maybe two—but Elias felt it. A subtle pressure change. The room bending around their presence.

He’s hurting, Elara thought. The words pressed in behind her ribs. I should’ve written. Should’ve checked.

"The military’s been a grinder," she said, voice steady but weighted. "I’ve dodged death in more zones than I can name. Even before the aliens hit. I don’t know where this world’s going, Elias... but as long as you’re breathing, I swear you can trust me."

He didn’t answer right away.

Behind his eyes, the crucifix’s voice stirred like a phantom coiled in glass.

You are naïve. Belief without proof is just permission for someone else to control you.

His hands folded in. Fingers pressed hard into the bone. His grip wasn’t panic—it was calculation. Elara meant what she said. He could feel it. But she still wore the Federation’s colors.

She’s honest, he thought. But the Federation lies. What’s she not seeing?

"I’m not sure what I need to do," he said, and this time, the words held. "But I know I’ve been lied to. About a lot. Things I might not even grasp yet."

Elara exhaled. The breath clouded in the cold air around Cubes, fading slow as it drifted between them.

He’s chasing shadows, she thought. Frustration curled behind her ribs, but it didn’t come alone. Empathy sat with it, unwelcome and rooted deep.

"That’s the Federation," she said, shifting slightly. Her shoulder met his, a faint brush of fabric and warmth. "They spin stories to keep things tidy. In my experience, it’s usually for a reason. Keeps society from cracking."

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