A Crack In Everything Book Novels & Stories

A slow leak of warmth, some days, could fill the whole world. Early that summer, Carolina woke to a tremor that wasn’t quite an earthquake, just a deep, tidal heave running under the sidewalk. She checked the city news: the tunnels were flooded, again. In the bakery’s backroom, a hairline crack zigzagged through the wall behind the fridge, letting in the vapor-thin reek of the river. “Ends before the front door. Not our problem,” Noemi said, but every day the crack grew a thumb’s width, then a knuckle, then a velvet-black snake tongue.

And this time— It didn’t just crack. It gave way.

Anna’s POV The moment the space around us cracked, I felt it. Not like something breaking outside But like something inside me had finally stopped pretending to be stable. The air didn’t just shift. It split. A sharp, invisible fracture tore through the room, distorting everything in a way my mind struggled to process. The walls didn’t move, yet they looked like they were bending inward. The floor beneath my feet felt solid, but there was a strange delay between when I stepped and when I felt the impact.

Jack asked. Nobody answered. Because nobody knew. And forty-seven cracks grew wider by one nanometer.

The polished executive image was gone, replaced by an exhausted, broken man. The only thing left in his life was Daria. But he couldn't bear to look at her, because she now had my donated eye. That bright, clear eye acted like a mirror, constantly reflecting his guilt and foolishness. One night, after drinking too much, he collapsed while holding Daria and wept. "Daria, I made a terrible mistake… I failed your mother… I'm a bastard…" Daria was six then. Through whispered gossip between neighbors, she had begun to piece the truth together.

And just when I thought I was making progress—when I thought my magic was stirring inside me again, faint but stubborn—everything changed. It started as a tremor. Then a crack. Then the sound. A ripping noise, like the air itself was tearing open, sharp enough to make the hair on my arms stand on end. I snapped my eyes open just in time to see it—right outside the window. A wound in the world. A rift. “Oh, bloody hell,” I whispered. It shimmered, jagged edges glowing purple and black, sucking the light from the trees around it. And worse—something was coming through.

I asked, hoping for something better, but fearing the worst. "it didn't just burn it." he said, his voice a bit more sharp. "it literally cracked the whole world sideways. The veils between dimensions, realms, spirit and living are all full of fractures now. There aren't so many right now, these fractures. But they are growing." I chewed on my bottom lip as I stared out into the ruined scorched lands as well. The wind whooshed through the blackened trees, and I thought I could hear whispers within them.

Weeks of denying the obvious. The first crack had truly appeared. And once ice begins to crack— It can never become whole again.

"No." A beat of silence. "But it's a crack." And cracks spread. The word echoed in the space between us. Crack. Small in immediate scale. Insignificant on its own, easily dismissed. But capable of spreading through entire structures. Hale understood that implication. Of course he did, he wasn't stupid. That was why he was still here engaging. That was why he hadn't walked away when he could have. "Cracks can be sealed," Hale said, reasserting control. "Damage repaired."

My breath fogs faintly. Dylan steps in front of me completely now. But I can still see around him. Every version of me in those fractured panels begins to move in unison. They step forward. Toward the barrier. Toward us. The main reflection presses both palms flat against the wall. And this time The wall cracks. A thin line splits down the center. Not wide. But real. A fracture. Between here and there. The crack glows blue. And from within it A hand reaches through.