The Shattered Sky: Only I Do What the Gods Can't

The days after the battle were marked by silence and sorrow. The once-bustling square of Riverstone became a gathering place for a grieving community. Survivors moved quietly among the ruins, their faces pale and their voices hushed.

Cultural mourning rituals in Riverstone were simple yet profound, rooted in the rhythms of the land.

The dead were prepared for burial with great care, their bodies wrapped in linen and adorned with small tokens—stones, flowers, or fragments of wood—that symbolized their connection to the village.

Marcus's body lay in the square, surrounded by the others who had given their lives. Lira helped to arrange the linens, her hands trembling as she worked. Kael stayed close by, his expression stoic, though his eyes betrayed the depth of his pain.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the community gathered for a funeral pyre.

The surviving villagers, many injured and weary, lit torches and formed a circle around the prepared bodies. The flames reflected in their tear-filled eyes as they began to sing.

The song was an old one, passed down through generations. Its words spoke of life and loss, of the bond between those who remained and those who had departed. Kael held Lira's hand tightly as they joined the song, their voices cracking but resolute.

The funeral was both an ending and a beginning. As the pyres burned, the villagers shared stories of the fallen—moments of courage, kindness, and love.

"Marcus saved my boy," Yara said, her voice steady despite her tears. "He told me to run while he held the line."

Others nodded, murmuring their gratitude and admiration. Marcus's name became a symbol of bravery, a rallying cry for a village struggling to find its footing.

For Kael and Lira, the collective mourning brought some solace, but it also deepened their loss. They felt the weight of their father's sacrifice, the void he left behind.

The aftermath of the battle left scars deeper than the physical wounds. The survivors grappled with vivid memories of fire and blood, of loved ones lost and lives irrevocably changed.

The village elders, though few in number, worked to create spaces for healing. They organized quiet gatherings where people could speak freely, sharing their pain and their fears.

Kael found himself drawn to these meetings, though he rarely spoke. He listened as others recounted their experiences, their voices trembling but determined. It helped him feel less alone, even as his own grief remained heavy.

Survivors leaned on one another in ways they never had before. Small acts of kindness—a shared meal, a helping hand—became lifelines in a time of uncertainty.

Lira found herself comforting the children, many of whom had lost parents or siblings. She told them stories of Riverstone's resilience, her voice gentle and soothing.

Kael took on more practical roles, helping to organize work crews and repair what little remained. The village, though battered, began to feel like a community again.

The battle had destroyed much of Riverstone's infrastructure, leaving the survivors with little to sustain them.

Food was scarce, the granary burned to the ground. Water systems powered by fragments and waterwheels were damaged, requiring constant maintenance.

Kael spearheaded efforts to rebuild, drawing on his father's teachings. He worked with the remaining farmers to salvage crops and ration supplies. The villagers scoured the outskirts for anything usable, from tools to wild herbs.

Yara, a skilled herbalist, took charge of creating makeshift remedies for the injured.

She taught others how to identify medicinal plants, her knowledge proving invaluable in the absence of proper resources.

Survival demanded creativity. The villagers repurposed broken tools, embedding fragments into machines that needed a lot of manpower to restore basic functionality.

Kael led the construction of a communal kitchen, where everyone contributed to shared meals. It became a place not just for sustenance, but for connection—a reminder that even in the darkest times, they were not alone.

The fragments, once a source of awe and mystery, now took on new significance.

Survivors began to study the remnants left by the corrupted attackers, searching for insights into their power.

Kael worked closely with Yara and a few other villagers who had knowledge of fragment usage.

They discovered that fragments carried unique properties—some amplified strength, others emitted energy or enhanced perception.

But these discoveries raised questions as well as answers. Where had the corrupted come from? Who—or what—controlled them? Was it that armored figure? Who or What was he? Where had he gone to? And why had Riverstone been targeted?

Kael began to suspect that the fragments held a deeper connection to the celestial events that had reshaped their world. He recalled the night the stars had fallen, the fragments raining down like shards of broken glass.

"We need to understand them," Kael said one evening, his voice firm. "If we don't, we'll always be vulnerable."

The villagers agreed, though the task felt daunting. The fragments were powerful, but they were also unpredictable—a reminder of the fine line between survival and destruction.

For Lira, the days following the battle were a blur of grief and exhaustion. She often found herself reliving the moment of their father's sacrifice, the memory replaying like a haunting melody.

Kael stayed close, offering quiet reassurance. He encouraged her to rest, to eat, to let herself grieve. But he also knew that healing couldn't be forced—it had to come in its own time.

One evening, Lira sat by the river that bordered the village, her knees drawn to her chest. Kael joined her, sitting in silence for a long time before speaking.

"Do you think he knew?" Lira asked, her voice barely audible. "That he wouldn't come back?"

Kael nodded slowly. "I think he did. But he also knew it was worth it. For us."

Lira's tears fell freely, but there was a quiet strength in her expression. "I want to make him proud," she said.

The village rallied around Lira, offering words of comfort and small gestures of kindness. Yara taught her how to identify healing herbs, a skill that gave her a sense of purpose.

The children she had comforted during the battle clung to her, their trust a source of healing for her own wounds.

As Lira began to recover, she noticed something strange. The fragment she had hidden during the battle seemed to resonate with her emotions, its faint glow growing stronger in moments of determination or fear.

At first, she dismissed it as her imagination. But over time, the connection became undeniable. She could sense the fragment's energy, as though it were an extension of herself.

Kael noticed it too. "It's reacting to you, it seems it want it wants to become a part of you" he said one day, watching as the fragment pulsed faintly in her hands.

"As in merging? I don't understand it," Lira admitted. "But it feels... alive."

As the days turned into weeks, Kael found himself stepping into a leadership role he had never anticipated.

The villagers looked to him for guidance, his calm demeanor and practical mindset a source of stability.

At first, Kael felt unworthy of the responsibility. He was just a farmer's son, not a leader. But as he worked alongside the survivors, he began to see himself through their eyes—a symbol of hope, a reminder that they could endure.

He organized work teams, delegated tasks, and made difficult decisions about resource allocation.

Every choice weighed on him, but he refused to let the pressure break him.

There were moments when the burden felt overwhelming. Kael often stayed awake long after the others had gone to sleep, his mind racing with questions and doubts.

"What if I fail them?" he confided to Yara one evening.

"You won't," she replied simply. "Because you care. That's what makes a leader."

Kael carried her words with him, finding strength in their simplicity.

The people of Riverstone were forever changed by the battle, their lives marked by loss and resilience. But in the face of unimaginable hardship, they found ways to rebuild—not just their village, but their sense of community and purpose.

Kael and Lira stood at the heart of this effort, their bond stronger than ever. Together, they carried the memory of their father and the hope of a brighter future.

For Riverstone, survival was no longer just about enduring—it was about healing, learning, and becoming something greater.