Kaelen and The Sphere in the Broken Branch

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It was a morning that seemed to forget the light. Kaelen and Varaan had left the highlands behind and were now walking through an ancient valley guarded by massive trees—so old that their roots protruded from the earth like twisted questions. Varaan walked cautiously, his moss-covered horns occasionally brushing the low-hanging branches. Kaelen followed him, silently. "The compass led us here," she murmured. Before them lay a fallen giant tree, half shattered, half sunken into the moss of centuries. It hadn't simply been felled—it seemed more like it had simply been left lying there one day, exhausted from bearing its time. "Inside," Varaan said. His voice was rougher than usual. Kaelen climbed cautiously over the broken slabs of bark. At the heart of the branch break, between petrified veins of resin, lay something that didn't belong there: a sphere, suspended in a nest of silver lightmoss. Kaelen leaned closer. The sphere was glassy, but no ordinary glass. Its surface breathed. Inside, liquid images flickered—places that didn't quite reveal themselves, and colors that felt like feelings. "What is it?" "A seeing core," Varaan answered. "Or a memory well. Some say it's both. I knew it. Once." Kaelen reached out—and as soon as her fingertips touched the surface, the valley around her fell silent. No wind, no rustling, no sound. Then the images began to grow. A plain emerged, crisscrossed by stone rings, each a circle of whispering voices. In the center: a tower of mist that seemed to breathe. Kaelen knew she had never been there—and yet she knew the place. "You know it, don't you?" Varaan stepped closer. "I was there. In another time. In another form." The sphere showed a girl with Kaelen's face, but younger, more hopeful—beside her, a small dragon with wings that were too short and eyes that, despite everything, held faith. "They are not us," whispered Kaelen. "And yet they are shadows of us," said Varaan. "The seeing core does not show the past. It shows what something could have become—or can still become." Kaelen released her fingers. The images sank away. "Why did you lead me here?" "I did not guide. The compass did. But I hoped." Kaelen lowered her gaze. "What if I do not want to become what lies there within me?" "Then something else will grow within you. But the echo remains." She sat down on a gnarled root that protruded from the trunk. The sphere now floated calmly. "What were you there for?" she asked. Varaan was silent for a moment. "A child. A guardian. Perhaps just a thought." "And me?" "Someone who saw me." The silence fell over the place again like a fine veil. Kaelen stood up, carefully took the sphere in both hands—and buried it deep in the broken branch nest again. "Not yet," she said. Varaan nodded. "Not yet." As they walked away, the mist around the trees flickered like forgotten memories looking back one last time.