Inicio / Fantasy / Fractured / Capítulo 61 - Capítulo 70

Todos los capítulos de Fractured: Capítulo 61 - Capítulo 70

131 Capítulos

A Beacon in the Wound

SeleneThe repaired Veil hummed at the edge of Selene’s awareness like a too-tight string.It was no longer the ragged, bleeding tear she had first seen in her visions. Their ritual had closed it, knitted raw edges into something whole enough to hold. But “whole” did not mean safe. She could feel it every time she stilled her thoughts: a thin, bright membrane stretched across a chasm, trembling under invisible strain. One breath too forceful, one surge of power too sharp, and the whole thing felt as if it might snap.She stood at the highest balcony of the Nexus keep, palms braced on cool stone, looking out into a night that seemed just a shade too dark. The sky was clear, the moon a calm crescent, but underneath the quiet she felt motion. Not wind. Not clouds.Attention.She exhaled slowly and reached inward, letting her magic brush the Veil in the gentlest possible way. A question, not a command.It shivered.A faint vibration rippled across her senses—like a finger run along the ri

The Weight of Power

The change in Selene had not arrived as a single, dramatic moment, but as a slow, simmering shift—one she’d only recognized now that it was impossible to ignore. Her anger had always been a quiet thing, a slow burn that fueled her determination rather than overwhelming her. But now… it had teeth.When she felt injustice—true, visceral wrongness—the emotion didn’t rise softly. It surged like a tidal wave, hot and furious, leaving her breathless. Today, as she stood before a broken altar stone in the outskirts of the forest—a stone desecrated by an incursion of blight—Selene felt the fury roar within her.Not sorrow. Not fear.Rage.It was bright. It was consuming. And worst of all, it felt good.Her jaw tightened as she placed her hand on the stone’s cracked surface. Lunar light rippled beneath her fingertips, instinctively seeking to restore what had been damaged. The stone responded, groaning, its fractures glowing. But her magic didn’t just heal—it pushed harder. Too hard. The crack

Storms in the Blood

Selene had always believed that the greatest battles were fought against external forces—darkness, corruption, malignant magic. She had never imagined that her fiercest war would be waged entirely within the borders of her own mind.But the Binding Ritual had rewritten the truth of her existence.Now, every quiet moment became a battlefield.Every breath felt like it carried the weight of three spirits instead of one.Every emotion rippled with echoes that weren’t entirely hers.She felt it most acutely when Ronan was near.He stood at the far end of their shared sanctuary now—backlit by the storm gathering behind him—his profile cut in hard, resolute lines. His gaze met hers across the space, and the intensity of it made the air vibrate. It was a look she had once cherished, a look that had made her feel chosen.But now…Now it held something sharper.Something possessive.Something dangerous.You are mine.The thought wasn’t spoken. It wasn’t projected intentionally. But Selene felt

Erosion of the Self

Selene never would have imagined that she would one day fear silence.But now, silence was dangerous. Silence meant she could hear too much—the thoughts that weren’t hers, the emotions that didn’t originate in her chest, the subtle hum in the air whenever Ronan or Mirra’s power shifted. Silence meant she could tell when one of them hesitated, when their emotions sharpened, when doubts threaded themselves through their shared consciousness like hairline fractures in glass.And in the rare, hushed moments when all three of them were still—truly still—her mind filled in the space with questions she wasn’t ready to ask.It was during one of those fragile slivers of calm that she found herself watching Ronan.He stood near the far window of their temporary refuge, the soft morning light outlining the silhouette of his broad shoulders and the contained tension in his frame. His hands were poised on the edge of the old wooden table, fingers curled as though holding back the urge to strike so

The Fracturing of Familiar Magic

Selene hadn’t expected training to feel like mourning.Not for a person, not for a relationship—for herself.For the woman she’d been before the Binding Ritual, the witch whose magic had flowed clean and cold and sure. The witch who never questioned the sound of her own heartbeat, who didn’t have to brace herself every time she drew upon her power, afraid of what—or who—might answer back.She had been proud of that clarity. It had been her anchor for years.Now, training sessions left her shaken, breathless, and quietly grieving.It started during a morning drill, the forest still damp with dew, a fine mist drifting in slow curls through the trees. Their combined sanctuary—half glade, half ruin—felt caught between worlds, its air humming with the residue of their binding.Ronan stood opposite her, shoulders squared, expression steady but electric with anticipation. The ocean thrummed inside him like a caged beast; she could feel the pressure of it even from across the clearing.“We’ll

Tides That Don't Obey

RonanThe water didn’t sound right.It was a small thing, and if he’d been anyone else, he might have missed it. But the sea had been his first lullaby and his only constant. He knew the language of surge and pull, the way current wrapped around stone, the tone of every wave when it broke.This… wasn’t it.“Ready?” Selene called from the edge of the clearing.The training pool they’d shaped into the glade wasn’t large—no more than a wide basin fed by a narrow spring—but it was deep, and it listened to him. Or it used to.He nodded, rolling his shoulders back. “Let’s go.”Mirra stood opposite him on the far bank, bare feet pressed into moss, hands relaxed at her sides. He could feel the hum of the earth under her skin, steady and steadying. She was always the anchor in these sessions, the one who stopped things from getting out of hand.“We start simple,” she said. “Just the vortex. No combined casting. No pushing.”Ronan huffed a quiet breath. “You know that word doesn’t mean the same

Borrowed Light

SeleneThe night used to be simple.Not easy—never that—but simple. There had been the moon, the sky, the slow, steady pull of tides she could feel even this far from the sea. Her magic had fit inside that rhythm like it had been made for it. No friction. No questions.Now every time she reached for it, she felt someone else there.She stood on the balcony outside her chamber, hands braced on the cool stone rail. Above, the moon hung sharp and clear, no clouds, no haze—perfect conditions. Once, she would have felt that like a hand on her shoulder, an invitation. Tonight, it felt like an old friend watching her struggle with a language she used to speak fluently.She drew in a breath and reached.Lunar power answered, but it wasn’t the clean, silver thread she remembered. It rose more slowly, carrying with it a weight that wasn’t hers—the sense of something deep and rooted pressing up from the ground, steady and patient. There was a faint taste of soil at the back of her throat, like s

What We Chose, What We Lost

SeleneLoss sneaks in quietly.Not as a sudden, sharp pain, but as an absence—a missing note in a melody you used to know by heart.That was what it felt like now. Every time I reached for my magic, I was reminded not of what I had gained, but of what no longer belonged solely to me.The stars were unusually bright tonight, scattered like frost across a field of black. A celestial alignment—rare, powerful, something I had once looked forward to with the kind of fervor usually reserved for holy rites. Under normal circumstances, the moon’s light during this alignment would have surged through me like a tide, flooding every channel of my being with a clarity so intense it was almost painful.I had prepared for it. Ritual cloth laid out. Crystals arranged. Breath steady.When I lifted my hands, I expected the familiar rise of cool silver radiance, the crisp purity of celestial fire.Instead…I met weight.A steady, grounding thrum beneath my palms. The unmistakable pull of soil and root—n

Anchored Tides

RonanThe sea had always answered me.Sometimes grudgingly, sometimes with a wild joy that matched my own, but it answered. My will, its motion. Simple.That simplicity was gone.I stood ankle-deep in the surf at dawn, watching the waves drag themselves up the sand in slow, heavy breaths. The sky was a faint smear of pink and gray, the kind of morning that used to make me feel like the world was waiting for my command.Now it felt like it was watching.“Again,” I muttered to myself.I raised my hand, feeling for that familiar surge—that old, clean line between thought and tide. For a heartbeat, I found it: the cool, relentless pull of the deep, water gathering itself like muscle under skin.Then something else slid in beneath it.Weight.Not the pressure of depth—I knew that well. This was different. A vertical pull, as if invisible roots reached down from my ribcage into the seafloor.I clenched my jaw.“Move.”The ocean obeyed. A column of water rose from the surface, spiraling upwa

Fault Lines of Self

SeleneThe nexus felt wrong.Not dangerously wrong—not the way it had when the Veil was shredding and the ground itself had heaved like a living thing—but off, like a song sung a half-step out of tune.The glade was quiet. The silver moss still glowed softly under my boots. The trees still leaned in, branches latticed overhead like old hands cupped around a secret. The distant pulse of the ocean still rolled at the edge of hearing.But the peace that usually settled here had turned restless.I stood near the center stone and watched Ronan’s outline carve itself against the deep violet of the sky. He’d drifted to the far edge of the clearing, where the moss gave way to bare, dark soil and roots that broke the surface like knuckles.He was still, but it wasn’t the stillness of calm. It was the hard, contained kind—muscles loaded, thoughts pulled so tight they barely moved.The bond hummed between us, a low, constant presence in the back of my mind. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be.

ANTERIOR

...

...

SIGUIENTE

ESCANEA EL CÓDIGO PARA LEER EN LA APP

DMCA.com Protection Status