THE BROKEN EGG

d brushing against the egg on the sill. It was warm-unnaturally so-and the pulsing light within it seemed to quicken, as if reacting to her touch. Old Man Harrow grabbe

ared-over a hundred years ago." He tapped the page, his finger landing on a sketch of an egg, its shell fractured just like the one Clara held. "Back then, the egg brought disaster. Cracks in the earth, floods, fires... the village barely survived. And the one who found the egg-they didn't make it." Clara's stomach twisted. "Why me?" she whispered, staring at the egg. "I didn't ask for this." Harrow's eyes softened, but only for a moment. "The egg chooses, Clara. Always has. And now it's chosen you." Before she could respond, a sharp crack of thunder split the air, and the ground trembled again, stronger this time. The crowd gasped, some clutching each other for support. Clara looked down at the egg, the blue light now so bright it cast shadows across her hands. The shell was splitting further, tiny fragments flaking away, revealing more of the glowing core inside. It wasn't just light-it was moving, swirling, like a storm trapped in a fragile prison. "Harrow, what do I do?" she asked, her voice breaking. She felt the weight of the villagers' stares, their fear pressing in on her. She'd always been the quiet one, the baker's daughter who kept to herself, tending her hens and selling bread at the market. Now, she was at the center of something she didn't understand, holding a mystery that could destroy them all. Harrow closed his book with a snap and looked at her, his expression grim. "First, we need to know what's inside that egg. The prophecy says it holds the key to stopping the fractures-or unleashing them. But opening it... th