Fragments Of Truth

Kaelith moved quickly through the dim streets, the hum of city life fading into the background. The essence stirred restlessly within him, prickling at the edges of his consciousness like a silent alarm. They were close—he could feel it.

For days, the government had been tightening their grip. The drones, the shadows that lingered too long on corners, the agents that always seemed a step behind. It wasn't paranoia; it was certainty. Tonight, they weren't just watching. They were closing in.

He turned a corner into an alleyway, the faint smell of damp concrete filling his nostrils. The narrow walls closed around him, the perfect place for an ambush. He stopped in his tracks, his breath steadying as he listened.

Footsteps. Two sets, steady and deliberate, echoed off the walls. Kaelith didn't turn, didn't move, as two figures emerged from the shadows behind him.

"Kaelith," the taller of the two said, his tone calm but carrying a weight of authority. "We need to have a serious conversation."

Kaelith slowly turned to face them. His eyes scanned their stances, noting the subtle rigidity of their postures, the faint bulge of concealed weapons beneath their jackets. These weren't just scouts. They were here to make a move.

"We warned you last time," the taller man continued, taking a step closer. "You don't get to brush us off. Not anymore."

Kaelith's expression remained impassive, but the essence rippled beneath his skin, ready to act. "I don't recall asking for this conversation," he said flatly.

"Maybe not," the second man interjected, pulling out a sleek black scanner. Its hum filled the air, vibrating against Kaelith's chest like an irritant. "But you've forced our hand. We know what you are. Or, at least, we're starting to."

The device's red light flickered, locking onto Kaelith. Its oscillating pitch rose, a sharp warning tone that caused the essence to bristle inside him.

Kaelith's eyes narrowed. "Turn that off."

The taller agent smirked. "Why? Uncomfortable? Maybe now you understand what it's like to be under a microscope. This is just the beginning, Kaelith. You've been ignoring us, but we've been studying you. That power inside you? It's dangerous. You're dangerous."

Kaelith clenched his jaw. "Dangerous to who? I haven't hurt anyone."

"Not yet," the second agent said, stepping closer. "But it's only a matter of time. People like you always lose control."

Kaelith took a slow breath, the essence simmering in his chest like a coiled spring. "People like me? You don't even know what I am."

The taller agent's smirk widened. "Then why don't you tell us? Or better yet, show us. You're good at that, aren't you? All those little incidents—drones knocked out of the sky, devices fried. You think we didn't notice?"

Kaelith felt the threads of reality shift around him, a faint golden shimmer at the edge of his vision. The tension in the air was suffocating, each word from the agents driving the essence closer to the surface.

"Step back," Kaelith warned, his voice low and steady.

But the agents didn't move. The scanner's hum grew louder, its red light flashing faster as if responding to the rising energy within Kaelith. The second agent reached into his jacket, his hand brushing against a concealed weapon.

And then the air split.

A surge of force rippled through the alley, like a wave of static electricity. The scanner sparked violently before shattering into pieces, the fragments scattering at the agents' feet. Both men recoiled, their composure cracking.

Kaelith's eyes darted to the source of the disturbance. A figure stood at the edge of the alley, leaning casually against the wall.

"Mikael," Kaelith muttered, his voice tinged with a mix of relief and frustration.

"Evening, Kaelith," Mikael said, his tone light. "I see you've been making friends."

The taller agent recovered quickly, his hand inching toward his weapon. Mikael raised a hand, and the motion stopped dead. The agent froze mid-step, his body trembling as though caught in invisible binds.

"That's enough," Mikael said, his silver eyes gleaming faintly in the dim light. "You've had your fun. Time to leave."

The second agent's face twisted with anger, but he didn't move. "Who the hell are you?"

Mikael's smirk widened. "Someone who knows exactly what you're dealing with. And someone you don't want to cross."

The taller agent gritted his teeth, his voice strained. "You think this is over? We're not giving up."

"I didn't ask you to give up," Mikael replied, his tone growing colder. "I'm telling you to back off. While you still can."

The air around Mikael seemed to hum faintly, the same frequency Kaelith recognized from the essence. It wasn't just a threat—it was a warning.

The agents hesitated, their eyes darting between Mikael and Kaelith. Then, with a shared glance, they retreated, disappearing into the shadows.

Kaelith exhaled, the tension leaving his body in a wave. He turned to Mikael, his expression unreadable. "You have a knack for showing up at the right time."

Mikael shrugged. "You have a knack for getting into trouble."

Kaelith crossed his arms. "You've been watching me."

"Someone has to," Mikael replied. "You're important, Kaelith. You might not know it yet, but you're part of something much bigger than yourself."

Kaelith frowned, the pieces of a larger puzzle falling into place. "You left the key. You knew this would happen."

Mikael's silver eyes softened. "The key doesn't just find anyone. It finds potential. I saw that in you."

Kaelith's chest tightened. "You were the previous inheritor."

"For a while," Mikael admitted. "But the key… it's not something you keep forever. It changes you, pulls you toward something bigger. Not everyone can handle that." He met Kaelith's gaze. "But you can."

Kaelith's thoughts swirled with questions, but Mikael cut through them. "We don't have time for a long chat. The agents aren't the only ones watching you."

Kaelith tensed. "What are you talking about?"

Mikael's tone grew serious. "The key isn't just a source of power. It's a beacon. Other entities are starting to notice, and they're not friendly."

Kaelith felt the essence stir uneasily within him. "What do we do?"

Mikael smiled faintly. "We prepare. But first, you're going to have to trust me."

***

Kaelith followed Mikael down a winding path of back alleys, the faint hum of city life becoming distant. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the echo of their footsteps. Mikael walked with a confidence that grated on Kaelith's nerves, as though he wasn't even trying to stay hidden.

Finally, Kaelith stopped. "Are you going to explain why you're here, or are we just going to keep walking until I trust you?"

Mikael turned, his silver eyes narrowing. "You've got a lot to learn, Kaelith. And not much time to do it. That little stunt back there? Effective, sure. But it screamed, 'Look at me, I have power!'"

Kaelith crossed his arms. "I didn't have a lot of options."

"You always have options," Mikael countered, stepping closer. "The problem is you don't know how to use them yet. That's what I'm here for."

Kaelith's gaze hardened. "You think you know how this works? What I'm dealing with?"

Mikael smiled faintly. "I don't think, Kaelith. I know. The key isn't just some flashy object that gives you power—it's a tool. But tools are only as good as the person wielding them."

Kaelith sighed, the weight of the evening pressing down on him. "So what's your big advice? What should I have done back there?"

Mikael gestured for him to follow. "Let me show you."

They stopped in a secluded courtyard, its cracked pavement overgrown with weeds. Mikael turned to face Kaelith, crossing his arms. "You're strong, no doubt about it. But strength alone doesn't win fights—strategy does. You can't go around crumpling scanners and flinging objects like a battering ram. It's loud. Obvious. Predictable."

Kaelith raised an eyebrow. "And what do you suggest? Let them capture me?"

Mikael chuckled. "No. You need to think smaller. Subtle. You're connected to the threads of reality, Kaelith. That means you don't need to make a scene to make an impact."

Kaelith frowned, intrigued despite himself. "Go on."

Mikael reached into his pocket and pulled out a small stone, tossing it to Kaelith. "Here. Try lifting this."

Kaelith sighed, catching the stone. "This is a waste of time. I can move things just fine."

"Humor me," Mikael said, stepping back. "But this time, don't just move it. Feel it. The weight, the texture, the way it's connected to the world around it."

Kaelith glanced at the stone, then closed his eyes. The essence stirred within him, responding to his focus. The stone lifted, hovering an inch above his palm. But as Kaelith concentrated, he noticed something he hadn't before: the faint vibrations in the air around the stone, the way its energy wove into the threads of reality.

"Good," Mikael said, his voice softer now. "Now, instead of just moving it, imagine it disappearing. Not physically—just from their senses. A distraction."

Kaelith frowned. "What does that even mean?"

"It means bending perception," Mikael explained. "If someone's relying on a scanner to track you, disrupt it. Blur the signal. If they're looking for movement, give them something else to follow."

Kaelith opened his eyes, frustration flickering across his face. "You're asking me to do the impossible."

Mikael smirked. "You're the Weaver of Realities, Kaelith. Impossible is what you do."

Kaelith sighed and focused again, this time extending his awareness outward. The threads of reality shifted under his will, and he could feel the stone's connection to everything around it. Instead of moving the stone, he wove a distortion around it—a ripple that bent light and energy subtly enough to make it appear as though the stone wasn't there.

He opened his eyes. The stone hovered in his hand, but its outline was blurred, shimmering faintly. Mikael grinned. "See? That's what I'm talking about."

Kaelith stared at the distorted stone, a flicker of pride breaking through his frustration. "This… could work."

"More than that," Mikael said, stepping closer. "This could save your life. If you can learn to bend reality without breaking it, you'll be unstoppable—and invisible. But it takes practice. Precision."

Kaelith nodded slowly, the weight of Mikael's words settling on him. "And if I don't learn?"

Mikael's smirk faded. "Then the next time the government comes after you, it won't be two agents. It'll be a team, with technology that's designed to counter brute force. You'll need more than power to stay ahead of them."

Kaelith clenched his fist, the essence humming faintly in response. "Fine. I'll practice. But if I'm the one doing the work, you'd better start giving me real answers."

Mikael's silver eyes gleamed. "Answers come with time, Kaelith. Right now, what you need is control. And I'm going to make sure you get it."

Kaelith slipped through the quiet streets, the conversation with Mikael still echoing in his mind. The night air was cool against his skin, carrying the faint scent of rain. For once, the tension of being followed had eased. Mikael's intervention had left the agents scrambling, and Kaelith was sure they wouldn't risk another attempt tonight.

As he approached his apartment, he scanned his surroundings, his heightened senses brushing over every detail—the faint buzz of streetlights, the rustle of leaves, the distant hum of a passing car. Satisfied that he was alone, Kaelith slipped inside, locking the door behind him.

The familiar glow of the key greeted him from its corner, faint but constant. Its presence was a quiet reminder of everything he still didn't understand. He tossed his jacket onto a chair and sat cross-legged on the floor, staring at the artifact.

Mikael thinks I can control this, he thought. That I can use it without drawing attention. But how do you bend reality without breaking it?

He closed his eyes, letting the essence stir within him. The threads of reality responded, faint and fragile at first, like gossamer strands brushing against his mind. He reached out to them, careful not to pull too hard. Feel it, Mikael had said. Every connection, every vibration.

Kaelith opened his eyes, focusing on a single object—a pen resting on the edge of the table. He extended his awareness, the threads of the pen weaving into his mind's eye. Its weight, its texture, even the faint energy it carried—all of it became clear.

He didn't lift it. Instead, he imagined it fading, its presence blending into the background of the room. The essence hummed in response, and the pen shimmered faintly. Its edges blurred, the light around it bending just enough to make it hard to focus on.

Kaelith smiled faintly. "Not bad."

Encouraged, he tried again, this time with the glass of water next to the pen. The threads were more complex, the water shifting and refracting light in ways that resisted his will. He adjusted his focus, weaving a subtle distortion around it. The glass flickered, its outline rippling as though submerged in a mirage.

The effort left him breathless, but the results were clear. The distortion wasn't perfect—it wavered and flickered under close scrutiny—but it was a start.

Kaelith leaned back, wiping the sweat from his brow. He glanced at the cluttered table, the scattered objects calling to him like a challenge. One step at a time. He chose a smaller target—a coin resting near the edge.

This time, instead of hiding it, he tried something different. He focused on its threads, imagining them loosening, fraying slightly at the edges. The coin wobbled, the sound of its faint vibration barely audible. With a flick of his fingers, he sent it spinning through the air. It moved with an unnatural grace, faster and sharper than physics should allow, before landing silently on the table.

"Better," Kaelith murmured. The precision felt… right. The power wasn't just about brute force. It was about control, subtle adjustments that could turn a mundane object into a weapon—or a shield.

Feeling more confident, Kaelith decided to try something larger. He stood, focusing on the heavy chair in the corner of the room. The threads of its weight tugged against his senses, their tension straining as he tried to manipulate them. It wasn't like the coin or the glass—this required balance.

He imagined the chair rising, but not in a direct line. He twisted the threads, weaving them in a spiral. The chair lifted off the floor, rotating slowly as it hovered. Kaelith's breath quickened as he guided it, the essence humming louder in his chest.

But then the threads pushed back. The weight of the chair grew heavier in his mind, the strain building until his head throbbed. The chair wobbled, then crashed to the floor with a loud thud.

Kaelith staggered, clutching his temple. "Damn it." He sank back onto the floor, the essence receding as if chastising him for overreaching.

The room was quiet again, save for Kaelith's steadying breaths. He glanced at the fallen chair, the faint glow of the key casting long shadows across it. The feedback from the essence was a harsh reminder of his limits, but it wasn't discouraging. If anything, it was a challenge.

Mikael's words echoed in his mind. You can't go around crumpling scanners and flinging objects like a battering ram. It's loud. Obvious. Predictable.

Kaelith smirked, shaking his head. "All right, Mikael. Point taken."

He closed his eyes, letting his focus settle once more. The threads of reality waited, delicate and infinite. This time, he didn't try to force them. He let them move naturally, weaving around his will like a river bending around a stone.

The key pulsed faintly, as if in approval. Kaelith exhaled, a faint smile playing on his lips. "One step at a time."