Book One – Chapter 3

Pretending to feel a measure of reassurance after this first assessment of his surroundings, Yves turned his attention to the Heartwood Stave. He still held it, in what was, for want of a less distressing definition, the approximation of a left hand. The stave was an approximation as well; a most generous one. It had manifested as a central shard, long and dark within his grasp, intricately shaped and surrounded by concentric distortions that suggested its form without fully reproducing it.  

       An artefact had
         crossed with him.
 

Yves had thought it impossible. Everything he had studied, stolen, and survived had led him to believe that
     objects did not shift.
Only the essence of living beings could pass through the ethereal mirrors.
More precisely,
 the very particular essence
       of a Lightshifter wizard.

             Not things..
         And yet—

This was weird.
Yves could not move the stave. He had tried, just now. He adjusted the fragments of his hand and tried again. It made no difference. When he turned his hand, the distortions that framed the stave shifted across one another, but the central shape remained where it was. The grand shard held on its own, independently of how much of him closed around it. When Yves receded, it stayed upright. 

           So.
    There they were.
           Each on their own.

 Each a fragmented
    structure of shards
 

                      existing

          side by side.