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

The morning arrived before the sun, quiet and heavy with anticipation.

Kael's hands moved automatically, muscles remembering the familiar rhythms of farm preparation long before his mind fully awakened.

The fragment against his chest—that subtle, secret thing—seemed to pulse with a gentle warmth, almost like a heartbeat separate from his own.

His father Marcus was already dressed, worn leather work gloves pulled tight, boots caked with the previous day's dried mud.

The lantern's soft glow cast long shadows across their modest kitchen, transforming ordinary objects into something more mysterious.

"Pass me the bread," Marcus said, not looking up from checking his tools.

Lira was wrapping their midday meal, her movements precise and deliberate. Ever since her "gymnastics" revelation, she approached every task with a warrior's focus—even packing lunch.

"Extra salt for the bread," she muttered to herself, sprinkling precisely. "Protein for endurance."

Marcus rolled his eyes, but there was affection beneath his exasperation. The star fragment event had changed many things, but family wasn't one of them.

Kael watched their morning ritual, aware that each moment felt simultaneously ordinary and extraordinary. Before the fragments, this would have been just another day. Now, every mundane action carried potential—a hidden weight of possibility.

As the morning light began to creep through the windows, Marcus seemed lost in thought. The silence invited a story, and Kael knew his father well enough to recognize the look of a memory about to be shared.

"You know," Marcus began, his voice taking on that particular tone he used when speaking of the world before, "things were different. Not just because of the fragments, but in how society was structured."

Kael and Lira exchanged a glance.

"The cities," Marcus continued, "they were and still are ruled by a complex hierarchy of nobility. From Barons to Archdukes, each held their own piece of power. But it wasn't just about bloodlines anymore. The world had begun to change even before the fragments arrived."

He spoke of how commoners could rise through incredible achievements. A farmer's son might become a knight for valor in battle. A scholar could earn a title through groundbreaking scientific discovery.

The social ladder, while still challenging to climb, was no longer completely rigid.

"Royalty still sat at the top," Marcus explained, "but they were more than just figureheads. The King and Queen of the Central Realm were known for their wisdom, their ability to balance the needs of nobles and commoners alike."

Lira leaned forward, captivated. "What do you think will happen now? With the fragments?"

Marcus's expression darkened. "That's the question, isn't it? Power has always been a dangerous thing. Now, it's more unpredictable than ever."

"Market day," he announced, shifting back to the present, more statement than question.

Riverstone's market had become a strange ecosystem since the night the stars fell. Where once merchants traded simple goods, now fragment users displayed their abilities like peacocks showing their most brilliant feathers.

A farmer might grow an entire season's crop with a touch. A weaver could create textiles that shimmered with impossible colors.

And always, always, there were whispers. Rumors of fragment hunters. Tales of individuals transformed—some elevated, some destroyed.

The journey to market was a careful navigation through this new landscape.

Kael noticed how his father's hand never strayed far from the small knife at his belt. Not out of aggression, but preparedness. The world had become a place where caution was essential.

At least that's what they assumed, they new too little of the changes the world had gone through, what the fragments and their users could and would do.

As they approached Riverstone's central market square, the first hints of fragment energy became apparent. The air itself seemed different—charged, expectant. Like the moment before lightning strikes.

But Kael's mind drifted to another time. To the week he first discovered his fragment.

It had started ordinarily enough. A morning like any other, except something felt... different. He had awakened with a sense of heightened awareness, as if the world had suddenly become more vivid, more alive.

The first sign came during morning chores. A chicken had escaped its coop, and as Kael moved to catch it, time seemed to slow. He could see every feather, every minute movement with impossible clarity.

His body moved with a precision he'd never experienced before, anticipating the chicken's movements before they happened.

Days later, during a particularly tense moment in the village, he'd felt a strange resonance. A merchant was arguing with a fragment user, the tension rising.

Suddenly, Kael felt a subtle vibration—like a musical note just beyond hearing. The argumentative fragment user had inexplicably calmed, the conflict dissipating as quickly as it had begun.

At first, Kael had thought he was imagining things. But the experiences continued.

A heightened sense of perception. A ability to sense the emotional state of those around him.

The fragment against his chest—sometimes warm, sometimes cool—seemed to be communicating in a language he was only beginning to understand.

He hadn't told anyone. Not his father. Not Lira. The secret felt both burdensome and precious.

A merchant near the center caught his attention, pulling him back to the present.

An older woman, her hands hovering over a tray of withered seedlings. With a mere touch, plants straightened. Leaves transformed from pale yellow to vibrant green. Entire growth cycles compressed into seconds.

"Instant crops," she called out. "No waiting. No uncertainty."

Nearby, a group of villagers watched with a mixture of wonder and suspicion. A few days ago, such an ability would have been miraculous. Now, it was just another fragment skill—remarkable, but no longer truly surprising.

Lira's eyes were wide, drinking in every detail. "Do you think I could learn to do that?" she whispered to Kael.

Before he could respond, a conversation nearby caught his attention.

"...heard about the fragment hunters near Oakridge," one merchant was saying, voice low. "Entire village ransacked. People taken."

The other merchant—a burly man with hands like leather—nodded grimly. "Power changes people. Makes them hungry."

Kael felt the fragment against his chest grow momentarily warm. A warning? A response? He couldn't be certain.

By evening, back in their small farmhouse, the day's tensions settled like dust. Marcus shared more stories—of a world of predictable seasons, of slow, steady progress.

A world that will soon no longer exist, where the distance between the old world and the new was just a few days, but felt like an eternity.

"Power comes with responsibility," he told Kael and Lira. "Remember that. Always."

But Kael was only half-listening. His hand had drifted unconsciously to his chest, where the fragment resided.

Something was coming. He could feel it.

And in Riverstone, under a sky of fractured stars, change was the only constant.