Free The Crystal Bridge (The Lost Shards Book 1) by Charlie Pulsipher

contours as it grew brighter, gaining strength with each second. The air outside the sphere shifted and swayed.
The sphere sprouted thousands of silver, translucent tentacles that weaved out into the ceiling and walls around them. It reminded her of a sea anemone, though the sight before her put the beautiful animal to shame.
One wispy arm of light passed lazily by her face and wiggled its way out the closed window. She could see it continued on, unbroken, until the trees outside blocked it from view. Some of these waving tentacles were barely visible, tiny wispy threads. Others slashed through the air with massive, tree-trunk sized limbs.
No one else in the classroom reacted or noticed as the silver tentacles intertwined around one another or pierced walls, desks, ceiling, floor, and even bodies as they spiraled away at every angle. They don’t seem dangerous.
The silver limbs danced around Kaden as though caught in a mild current or invisible breeze. Aren could hear them singing as they swayed past or through her, fragments of a high, sorrowful melody that blended into the hum of the fluorescent lights and the flow of the air conditioner, the counterparts melding with the bustle of life around the room, deepening the beauty of each breath, of every nervous pencil tap, of every cough.
She imagined the silvery arms passing through everything they touched and carrying their songs forever outward into the emptiness of space, a never-ending beauty that only she and Kaden shared. A drop of liquid hit her clasped fingers and she looked down to see that unfelt tears had flowed down her face and puddled on her desk. She blinked them away, noting the images stayed with her even with her eyes closed.
That’s cool. Aren closed her eyes and hummed to herself, watching the silvery strings around her pulse and sing along with this new sound. Is this what Kaden sees? What is it?
She opened her eyes and wrenched her attention away from the singing tendrils, forcing herself to look back at Kaden. He sat at his desk in the middle of his golden sphere, encircled by the waving tentacles of light. He looks comfortable too, very much like he belongs there in the center of all reality.
Aren glimpsed images along the inside shell of light that sprouted out of the base of each of the larger columns that waved around him. Her eyes widened again. She’d been so preoccupied with the limbs themselves, she’d missed this detail. Light danced across Kaden’s face as the images swirled around him without even a touch, his eyes seeming to send them flying. This movement also powered the swaying motions of the tentacles as their bases bounced around the shell like pieces on a game board.
One image arrested her. Kaden held it in front of him longer than the others. She could see a rolling ocean below purple stone, a forest so vast that it could have been a whole continent, and a sky the color of her mother’s eyes with a great red slash through the middle.
The song from the silver tentacles grew in crescendo. She reached out to the image with her mind and felt it call to her in return. She didn’t notice Kaden’s look of puzzlement as the image shifted.
All sound ceased. Aren looked around, feeling almost physical pain as the silvery song ended. The waving light columns contracted like the eyestalks of a snail, folding in on themselves until only one remained attached to the golden shell.
Aren glanced at Tracy who looked frozen in place. “Tracy?” she asked, but Tracy didn’t answer, nor did she move. Aren reached out to touch her friend’s shoulder, but the world stopped making sense before her hand lifted more than a few inches. It hung there as she caught sight of Kaden once more, sitting at his desk, the image she’d seen floating directly in front of his face. She could still hear the image’s silent call to her, but that melted away as she watched Kaden’s face twist and stretch into the image like taffy.
She screamed, but no one moved,