My Shard Bearer System - Elias's Legacy-Chapter 239: Let it go go

Elias tensed. The motion was small, but the shard pulsed in response—colder, sharper. A warning drawn from his spine.

"You’re defending them?" The words cut. His eyes narrowed, the tone edged. She’s loyal, he thought, but to what?

"I work for them," she said, the defense steady but careful. "I see their angle. Holding society together. Before the aliens, things were... stable. As long as the politicians kept out of it."

Her fingers curled against the cot’s frame. Nails dragged along the underside of the metal. The sound was soft. Telling.

"After?" she added, quieter now. "It’s a mess. I wasn’t sure if I was killing real threats... or just holding up someone’s idea of order."

Elias turned toward her. The motion wasn’t forceful, but there was weight behind it. His gaze found hers. The tremor in his hands didn’t matter.

She’s questioning, too.

"Then why stay?" he asked.

Her eyes didn’t hold steady.

A flicker passed through—too fast for her to smother. Doubt. Real.

"I can do more from inside," she said. "If I leave, they’ll just replace me with someone worse."

The words came faster now, unspooling before she could measure them.

"After the first alien strike..." She stopped. Her throat caught the rest.

The fields came back—mud, smoke, blood. Names without faces. Faces without names.

"I felt this drive to fight," she said, voice thin around it. "To survive. I never thought we’d win." frёewebnoѵēl.com

Cubes pulsed. Its light dimmed for half a breath, then flared again in sequence. Its voice slid across Elara’s thoughts, quiet and cold.

"You’re baring too much. He’s not ready."

She didn’t answer it. The warning lodged in the back of her mind and stayed there, unanswered.

"I don’t care," she whispered under her breath. Then louder, steadier: "The shards, the Ikonas—it’s chaos. A sick game that’s only getting worse. I don’t want to kill without meaning."

Elias swallowed. His throat tightened around the words she’d spoken—words that sounded too much like his own thoughts, his own fear.

The crucifix’s voice echoed in his skull.

You are being softened. Conditioned.

The blue-faced emissaries flickered through his memory—Giselsin’s representatives, with glass-bone hands and expressionless precision. Their tech hummed like the consoles in Cube X. Different shape. Same sickness.

It’s all connected.

The shard in his shoulder pulsed harder, syncing with the ward’s electrical hum. The sensation crawled up his spine, not painful—just wrong.

He almost told her.

The truth sat behind his teeth—of the crystal, of Giselsin, of the boy he’d been in another body. But something in him held back. Not doubt. Just... caution.

Not yet.

Elara reached out. Her hand brushed against his arm, light contact, enough to anchor them in the moment. Her voice dropped with it.

"When I heard you got an Ikona, I was thrilled. It meant I’d get to see you again. Maybe pause the madness for a second." Her voice cracked at the edge. "Then I learned you nearly died to burglars."

She blinked fast. Her eyes shone with it now—nothing dramatic. Just tired, real.

"I almost broke down in my ship," she said, breathing it out. "Racing to get here. Not knowing if you’d make it."

Elias let the silence stretch for half a beat before answering.

"That wasn’t fun," he said, tone softer now. A faint smile ghosted at the corner of his mouth, not for humor, just acknowledgment.

He let out a slow breath.

The crucifix’s warning didn’t fade.

I trusted too easily. Not again.

"I didn’t know you’d been through so much," he said. "Why didn’t you reach out? Or take a break? I know I dropped the ball. I don’t blame you for moving forward."

A memory surged, tearing through the present like a seam pulled open.

She was sixteen again.

Volis Heights shimmered in summer haze, its domed sky half-lit by orbital mirrors. The park stretched wide beneath, scattered with old-growth synth-oaks and overgrown grass patches that buzzed with insect drones. Kids shouted across the field. Older teens raced modified bikes along magnetic rails, their laughter echoing off solar-reflective panels that lined the walkways.

Elara stood near the edge, clutching a half-cracked hover-disc against her chest. She wore a secondhand jacket two sizes too big, sleeves rolled, boots still caked in trail dust from the hike she’d taken to meet them.

Dorian Kael stood beside her, sleeves pushed up, sweat gleaming at his temples.

"Alright, Valkyrie," he said, grinning, his deep voice rumbling like an engine in idle. "Catch this one, and I won’t make you do push-ups ’til your bones liquefy."

He tossed the disc.

It wasn’t gentle.

She lunged.

Missed by inches.

Landed hard, rolled across the dirt, came up coughing—and laughing.

Dorian only chuckled. Walked over. Held out a hand.

"Not bad," he said, hoisting her up. "But next time, try not to eat the field."

Later, the sky dimmed.

The park lights sputtered as the city grid shifted to conserve power. Elias had run ahead, probably chasing some idea or shortcut home, and left his father and Elara by the old bench near the shuttle lot.

Her comm-unit crackled again. Dead screen. Frustrating static.

"Let me see it," Dorian said.

He pulled a multitool from his coat—nothing regulation, probably scavenged from some Federation scrapyard—and knelt, prying the casing open with care. His face shifted in the half-light, eyes narrowed, focus absolute.

"Most people throw these out," he muttered, brow furrowed. "But there’s always a way to fix things. If you take your time."

She watched him work. Didn’t speak.

A few minutes passed. The device blinked back to life.

He handed it to her without ceremony.

"You’ll do big things," he said, voice quiet. "Just don’t let the world teach you to expect less."

She didn’t answer. Just nodded, her throat suddenly tight from the tense moment

On the drive back, Dorian hummed a tune. No lyrics. Just sound, low and steady, half-forgotten by morning—but the rhythm stayed lodged in her ribs long after Cradle Planet burned.

Visit freewe𝑏(n)ovel.𝘤ℴ𝑚 for the best novel reading exp𝒆rience