“What is it?” Argen, his cloak wrapped tightly, motioned towards the glistening violet glass-like fragment hanging suspended in air. It resonated faintly, piercing; like a vibration in the mind.
Steven dismounted, sending snow up in a fluff as he landed. Settling his mare, he proofed his cloak against the cold, then approached, “It’s a Rift-shard: pure rift energy coalesced into physical form. They’re rare, and appear randomly, usually in places of extreme emotional history. I would not doubt if this was once a battlefield.”
Argen nodded. He could feel the energy bound within the shard, feel its desire for release.
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