The world fractured. The past was buried. But some fragments refuse to stay lost.
In the Arctic stronghold of Lumik, apprentice archivist Keela uncovers a mysterious artifact, one that pulses with secrets tied to the Earthâs collapse. Her discovery shatters the quiet balance of her isolated society and sets her on a journey across a broken world.
Joined by Anina, a gifted technician with a hidden past, Keela must navigate ancient machines, divided civilizations, and rising tensions between those who seek restoration and those who crave power.
As the truth behind the artifact unravels, Keela faces a choice that could mend the planet, or doom it once more.
To heal the Earth, she must first decide who deserves to inherit it.
The world fractured. The past was buried. But some fragments refuse to stay lost.
In the Arctic stronghold of Lumik, apprentice archivist Keela uncovers a mysterious artifact, one that pulses with secrets tied to the Earthâs collapse. Her discovery shatters the quiet balance of her isolated society and sets her on a journey across a broken world.
Joined by Anina, a gifted technician with a hidden past, Keela must navigate ancient machines, divided civilizations, and rising tensions between those who seek restoration and those who crave power.
As the truth behind the artifact unravels, Keela faces a choice that could mend the planet, or doom it once more.
To heal the Earth, she must first decide who deserves to inherit it.
The cityâs soft wake-up chime stirred Keela from her sleep, its harmony blending with the crystalline hum of Lumik.
Above her, the dome captured the faint light of the aurora borealis, their light shifting quietly.
She sighed, nerves and excitement battling within her, today was the start of her dream.
She stepped out of bed, wiped the sleep out of her eyes and headed towards her grooming niche.
Keela combed through her thick, jet-black hair, weaving it into a simple braid that fell past her shoulders. Her fingers, calloused from hours in the Archives, worked deftly, a quiet reminder of her dedication to the craft. The soft morning light danced across her light bronze skin. As she secured the braid, her dark almond-shaped eyes caught her reflection in the translucent panel, their quiet curiosity betraying the nerves she tried to suppress.
Would the other Archivists see her as just another inexperienced trainee? Would Naajaâs - the Head Archivist - sharp gaze pierce through her confidence and find her wanting?
She smiled faintly at her reflection. This was it. Her first step into a world sheâd dreamed of being part of since childhood.
Fully groomed and feeling more composed, Keela slipped into her tunic, its deep green fabric embroidered with subtle patterns that echoed the auroras. The garment felt familiar and grounding, a reminder of her connection to her clan and their legacy.
The muffled sounds of movement from the kitchen pulled her fully from her thoughts. Sliding into her house shoes, she padded down the short hallway toward the familiar morning bustle.
Iluak, wrapped in her teal shawl, sliced through sealberry bread with steady hands. She glanced up as Keela entered. "Youâve been up for a while. I can always tell by your braid, too perfect for a rushed morning."
Keela smirked, settling at the table. "Maybe I was just savoring my last moments of peace before you started giving me advice."
Iluak handed her a steaming mug, eyes twinkling. "Advice? You make it sound like my lifeâs mission is meddling."
Keela blew on her tea. "Itâs not? Because Iâm pretty sure youâve been training me for this moment my whole life."
Iluak placed a hand on her hip, feigning offense. âTraining you? Iâd never! Just⌠preparing you to navigate the world without embarrassing yourself.â
Keela grinned. "Right. Like how you taught me to stand slightly to the left when someone talks with their hands?"
Iluak nodded sagely. "Never underestimate the wisdom of sidestepping unnecessary bruises." She returned to slicing the bread, her lips twitching as she fought back a smile. "Besides, if Naajaâs the worst of your worries, youâre doing just fine."
âWhat if I mess up?â Keela asked softly.
âKeela.â Iluakâs voice cut through her spiraling thoughts like a blade through ice. She set the knife down and turned, placing both hands on her daughterâs shoulders. âYou are ready. Youâve prepared for this. You carry the ingenuity of the Kiviru clan in your blood. And if you do stumble? Youâll learn, and youâll rise. Thatâs what we do.â
Keela nodded, her throat tight. Her motherâs faith in her was both comforting and daunting.
Iluak returned to the task at hand, her voice lighter now. âJust remember to keep your back straight, your voice steady, and your gaze confident. And for the love of all things sacred, donât let those senior Archivists intimidate you. Half of them wouldnât know a true ancient artifact from a modern forgery if it hit them over the head.â
Keela laughed, the sound easing some of the tension in her chest. âNoted.â
The conversation shifted as they settled into their routine, sharing breakfast while Iluak peppered her daughter with both practical tips and humorous anecdotes about her own missteps in the professional world.
âDid I ever tell you about the time I spilled sealberry tea on the Arctic Councilâs records?â Iluak said, her tone conspiratorial.
Keelaâs eyes widened. âYou didnât.â
âOh, I did. Right in the middle of a presentation to the Council. I thought Elder Nunaâs eyes were going to pop out of her head.â Iluak chuckled at the memory. âBut you know what? I owned it. Cleaned it up, apologized, and carried on like it didnât even faze me. Thatâs the trick, Keela. Everyone makes mistakes. Itâs how you handle them that matters.â.
As Keela began to clear the table, Iluak lingered near the counter, her sharp eyes scanning Keelaâs face. It was the look Keela recognized, the one her mother always gave when she was about to say something she thought was vital.
âBefore you go,â Iluak began, leaning against the counter, âI want you to take something with you.â
Keela paused, halfway through stacking the plates. âWhat is it?â
Iluak moved to the small shelf near the kitchenâs far wall, running her fingers along a line of carefully carved objects. Each piece of bone, stone, or wood was a relic of some sort,part of their familyâs personal collection, passed down through generations. She selected a small, polished piece of ivory, no larger than Keelaâs palm, shaped into an abstract, twisting form.
âThis was your grandmotherâs,â Iluak said, holding it out. âShe carried it with her on her first expedition outside the city. She used to say it reminded her of the flow of life, how everything is connected, even when it seems chaotic.â
Keela took the object carefully, the cool walrus ivory smooth against her fingertips. It was surprisingly heavy for its size. She traced the spiral ridges with her thumb, feeling a quiet, grounding energy in its form. âItâs beautiful,â she murmured.
âItâs more than that,â Iluak said, her voice tinged with something deeper. âThe Kiviru have always believed in the power of symbols. This isnât just a charm; itâs a reminder. When youâre faced with uncertainty, when the world feels overwhelming, remember what this represents, movement, flow, connection. The threads will always reveal themselves if you look closely enough.â
Keela nodded, slipping the small relic into the pocket of her tunic. âThank you, Mother,â she said, her voice quiet but sincere. âIâll take good care of it.â
Iluak smiled, though there was a glimmer of emotion in her eyes. âI know you will.â
For a moment, they stood in silence, the weight of the exchange settling between them. Then Iluak clapped her hands briskly, breaking the moment. âNow,â she said, her tone light again, âare you sure your hairâs presentable? Naajaâs sharp, sheâll notice if youâve got a single strand out of place.â
Keela groaned, running a hand through her thick, jet-black hair. âYouâre impossible.â
âIâm thorough,â Iluak corrected with a grin. âThereâs a difference.â
Keela turned toward the small mirror mounted on the wall, smoothing her hair as her mother bustled about the kitchen, tidying up. Her reflection stared back at her, bright-eyed, but with a nervous tension in her jaw. She adjusted the collar of her tunic. It was a garment sheâd chosen carefully, hoping it struck the right balance between tradition and practicality.
Behind her, Iluakâs voice cut through her thoughts again. âAnd one more thing, Keela.â
Keela turned, raising an eyebrow. âYes?â
âDonât forget to eat lunch,â Iluak said, wagging a finger. âI know how you get when youâre focused. If you donât take a break, youâll end up fainting in the middle of some important task, and then who will they call? Me. And Iâll have to march down there and scold you in front of everyone.â
Keela turned to look at her mother, feeling a swell of gratitude for her steady presence. âThanks, Mom.â
Iluak smiled, a hint of mischief returning to her eyes. âDonât thank me yet. Wait until youâve survived Naajaâs lecture on the proper categorization of auroral energy artifacts.â
Keela groaned, but the sound was accompanied by a laugh. âYouâre really enjoying this, arenât you?â
âIâm just saying,â Iluak said, her tone mock-innocent. âIf she starts talking about the Great Polar Cod Migration of 842, donât say I didnât warn you.â
They both laughed, the tension in the room easing. Keela felt a little lighter, the looming weight of the day ahead no longer as suffocating.
Iluak moved to the kitchen counter and picked up a small bundle wrapped in translucent plant fiber. She handed it to Keela, who took it with a curious glance.
âWhatâs this?â Keela asked.
âLunch, of course,â Iluak replied. âI didnât want you fainting in the middle of the Archives because you were too nervous to eat.â
Keela unwrapped a corner of the bundle to reveal neat slices of smoked fish layered with tangy sealberry preserves and tucked between thin sheets of frostroot flatbread. The smell was comforting, a mix of the sharp and earthy flavors sheâd grown up with.
âThanks,â Keela said, genuinely touched. She hesitated for a moment before adding, âYou didnât have to.â
Iluak tilted her head, fixing Keela with a knowing look. âKeela, if I didnât, who else would? Naajaâs brilliant, but sheâs not exactly the nurturing type.â
Keela grinned at the thought of her stern mentor trying to fuss over her. âFair point.â
Iluak glanced toward the entryway and clapped her hands lightly. âNow, if you donât want to be late on your first day, youâd better get moving. It takes time to bundle up properly in this weather.â
Keela grinned and grabbed her tool satchel from its designated hook. It was a sleek, multi-pocketed bag made from a material similar to her coat, designed to withstand the harsh elements while protecting its contents. She double-checked its contents: archival tools, a notebook for jotting observations, and a few essentials for the day ahead, including the meal Iluak had prepared. Satisfied, she slung it over her shoulder.
Turning back to the kitchen, Keela gave her mother a mock salute. âAll geared up and ready to face the day.â
She adjusted the strap of her satchel and opened the door, bracing herself as a gust of frigid air swirled inside. The icy breeze bit at her cheeks, but her outerwear quickly responded, trapping the warmth close to her body.
She turned back for one last glance at her mother, who stood framed by the soft glow of the kitchen. âIâll see you tonight,â Keela said.
âSee you tonight,â Iluak replied. âGo make us proud.â
With a steadying breath, Keela stepped into the crystalline city of Lumik, the auroras casting their ever-shifting light over the waking world
In Fragments of Light, Arlen Voss delivers a hauntingly beautiful exploration of memory, resilience, and the quiet strength of human connection. Set in the icy stronghold of Lumik and expanding outward into a fractured world, the novel follows apprentice archivist Keela as she uncovers an artifact that threatens to upend everything her isolated society believes about the Earthâs collapseâand about their place in what remains.
Vossâ worldbuilding is both intricate and intimate. From the crystalline hum of Lumik to the ancient machines scattered across a divided planet, each setting feels deeply considered and fully realized. Yet the world never overwhelms the characters; instead, it enriches them. The novel excels in grounding its speculative elements in emotional truth, allowing the reader to feel the weight of every decision Keela must make.
What truly elevates the story is the strength of its relationships. The early interactions between Keela and her mother, Iluak, are rendered with warmth, humor, and depthâan authentic portrayal of generational wisdom passed down through ritual, story, and small gestures of care. Throughout the novel, Keelaâs evolving relationships are tender and nuanced, offering a counterpoint to the sweeping questions of planetary restoration and the politics of power.
Vossâs prose is quietly arresting, laced with lyrical insight and understated wisdom. Sentences unfold with clarity and grace, inviting the reader not just to imagine this world, but to contemplate their own. âThe past has teeth,â one character observes. âItâll bite you whether youâre looking or not.â This themeâof confronting uncomfortable truths rather than turning awayâresonates throughout, giving the novel a timeless philosophical undercurrent.
Fragments of Light is a rare kind of fiction: one that balances thought-provoking ideas with emotional intimacy, all delivered through confident and evocative storytelling. Voss doesn't just ask how a world might be healedâbut asks who has the right to heal it, and at what cost. The result is a luminous, memorable debut that lingers long after the final page.