How to Fake a Kingdom

Chapter Thirty: The Shards We Carry

The sky stretched endlessly overhead, a canvas of soft twilight streaked with the faint glow of distant stars. It had been three weeks since the fall of the Hollow King, three weeks since Elliott Fen shattered the relic that had once held the world's fate like a blade pressed to its throat.

Three weeks of silence.

Three weeks of questions.

Three weeks of uneasy peace.

But peace, as Elliott had learned, was never simple. Not with fractured kingdoms, broken relics, and the weight of nearly destroying reality hanging around his neck.

Aftermath

The Crimson Wraith II—because Indigo Voss insisted on renaming the new ship after her beloved, wrecked original—glided across the open skies, far from the Hollow King's wastelands. Its patched sails billowed in the wind, and the wooden decks creaked beneath the faint hum of lingering enchantments.

Elliott stood near the bow, watching the clouds drift by.

The world below was trying to heal.

Villages stirred to life. Trading ports reopened. Rumors whispered of kings re-establishing thrones, of old borders redrawn. But cracks remained—in the land, in the sky, in the hearts of the people.

And in Elliott's chest, where the relic's absence pulsed like a phantom ache.

The golden shards were locked away now, sealed in a reinforced vault below deck. Even shattered, they hummed with residual magic—a constant reminder of what almost was.

Conversations at the Edge

Dorian found him first, limping slightly from a poorly healed battle wound.

"Still brooding?" the swordsman asked, settling beside him with a grunt.

"Not brooding," Elliott replied. "Reflecting."

Dorian snorted. "They're the same thing when you frown that much."

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, the wind tugging at their clothes.

"Kingdoms rebuilding," Dorian mused. "Pirates profiting. Monsters licking their wounds. And you… what happens to the 'Bearer' now that the relic's in pieces?"

Elliott didn't answer immediately.

"I carry the shards," he finally said. "Until I know they won't fall into the wrong hands."

Dorian grunted approval. "Good. Because the world's still dangerous. And you? You've made enemies."

Elliott smirked faintly. "What else is new?"

Scars and Shadows

Below deck, Marlow practiced with her kinetic magic, hurling small bursts of force at floating targets. She moved stiffly, her injuries healing slower than she admitted.

Seraphine lounged in a hammock nearby, tossing a dagger between her fingers.

"You know," the rogue drawled, "we saved the world. Broke a relic. Toppled a tyrant. And yet here we are… still on a ship with questionable hygiene standards."

"Adventure's not over," Marlow replied.

Seraphine grinned. "Isn't it? No relic. No looming apocalypse."

Marlow's gaze darkened. "You didn't see what Elliott saw."

Seraphine's smirk faltered.

"No," she admitted. "But I saw enough."

They both knew—shattering the relic wasn't the end.

It was a beginning.

Elric's Research

In the ship's tiny study, Elric hunched over a collection of books, parchments, and half-burnt notes. His glasses slid down his nose as he scribbled furiously, muttering to himself.

The remnants of the relic hummed faintly from their sealed container nearby.

"You can feel it too, can't you?" Elric whispered, eyes wide. "Even broken, it… calls."

He flipped through ancient texts—warnings of relics never truly destroyed, only… delayed.

There were more.

Hidden.

Lost.

Waiting.

Elric's hand trembled as he wrote a single word across the page:

"Shards."

Indigo's Proposition

That evening, Indigo Voss gathered the group around a rickety table below deck. Maps, stolen documents, and aged bounty posters littered the surface.

"So," she began, grinning wickedly, "you lot wanna retire? Settle on a farm? Knit sweaters?"

"No," Elliott said flatly.

"Didn't think so." Indigo tapped the maps. "Rumors are flying. Ancient ruins resurfacing. Forgotten artifacts stirring. Other relics… waking up."

Marlow's eyes narrowed. "More like the one we destroyed?"

Indigo shrugged. "Or worse."

Elliott's pulse quickened.

Dorian cracked his knuckles. "Sounds familiar."

Seraphine sighed. "Guess it's 'world-saving' season again."

Elliott met their gazes, resolve hardening.

"We stop them," he said simply. "Whatever it takes."

The World Moves On

As the ship sailed into the horizon, Elliott allowed himself a rare, quiet smile.

The Hollow King was gone.

The relic was shattered.

The world wasn't perfect.

But it wasn't lost.

And as long as they drew breath, as long as they carried the scars—and the shards—they'd fight for it.

The sky stretched wide and uncertain before them.

But uncertainty? That was just the start of another adventure.

Epilogue: Beneath Forgotten Stars

Far across the world, beneath crumbling ruins and forgotten sands, a hidden vault pulsed faintly in the dark.

Inside, ancient artifacts stirred.

Relics long thought destroyed whispered to one another, their power awakening.

And in the shadows, a figure watched… smiling.

The game wasn't over.

Not yet.