For The Shattered Things Novels & Stories

’ I say as Edmond comes to sit beside me. ‘I love you mate’ I tell him as I stare up at him, right through his eyes. ‘I love you too a billion times’ he says as he devours my mouth. My life is so full now and I would never exchange this for nothing in the world. If there is one thing I have learnt, it is that nothing really is impossible because if a broken Pieces of a heart could be fixed, then everything can be fixed once you find the right people. The end.

The Fracture froze mid-leap, its body unraveling into threads of smoke and fire. She heard the Queen’s voice again. The ending is yours now. Her scream tore through the clearing as the other Fractures lunged. One by one, they collapsed into shards, not destroyed, but rewritten. Their forms twisted into fading silhouettes, dissolving into the mist like memories finally let go. When the last one fell, silence consumed the clearing.

Just when I thought I could start healing, just when I thought I could have something real, this. The fragile peace I've been building shatters like glass.

This isn’t a crack. It’s the first fracture. And if she’s right? Everything I’ve clung to is about to shatter.

When the light faded, the relic was gone—shattered into a thousand pieces. The cavern was silent, the air still heavy but no longer oppressive. Tom stood in the center, staring at the shattered remains of the relic. His red eyes flickered, the glow dimming as he fell to his knees. “No,” he whispered, his voice hollow. “This can’t be.” I pushed myself to my feet, staggering toward him. “It’s over, Tom.” He looked up at me, his expression a mix of fury and despair. “You’ve destroyed everything.”

The memory was a shard of glass in my heart. “What we had?” The words were quiet, but they cut deeper than a shout. “You mean the years you let me believe I was broken, while you knew the truth? The art you stole from me? The child you murdered? That’s not a marriage, Vincent. That’s a damnation.” "It was a misunderstanding! It was all Sophia’s plan!" Vincent sobbed, tears and blood mixing on his face. "I already made her pay! I made her life a living hell!"

"Power, when bound in gold, corrupts. But when shattered by choice, it transforms. This is how empires fall. And how legends begin" The sun rose slowly over the broken sanctuary, casting long, fractured shadows across the cracked stones and shattered columns. Its light was golden-edged but splintered, peeking through rifts in the sky that still trembled, repairing themselves from the wounds left by the storm. The air was thick with quiet, the kind that settles only after great upheaval.

It’s hurting. “Come and take it.” She holds it out to me, but the moment I take a step forward to grab it, she lifts the frame high up and lets it free fall to the floor. I watch my entire world shatter into pieces against the hard tiled floor together with the only beautiful thing I had left of my family. The glasses of the frame fly all over the place and our broken smiles on the picture lay miserable on the floor. Tears blur my eyes as I look from the shattered frame to Rhea and her wicked laugh tips me over the edge. Wrath spreads through my limbs like larva.

“You did it. You’re back.” But then he noticed the shards scattered on the ground. Each piece still displayed its face—smiling, blinking, and whispering. From the cracks of the broken house, a shadow seeped in. The maid's voice emerged from the darkness, softer now, and almost gentle: “You broke the routine. Now the real cage begins.” The shards lifted off the ground and swirled through the air. They fused again—not as a mask this time, but as a door—a door made of faces, each one whispering and smiling.

His words were needles, but I’d long since grown used to the sting. I curled my fingers into tight fists before letting them speak with deadly calm: You won’t break me. His head tilted, his eyes narrowing. “Oh, but I don’t have to break you,” he whispered, stepping back into the shadows like a vulture circling a carcass. “You’re already cracked. All I have to do is tap…” He tapped his fingers once, twice, thrice against the stone wall—each knock loud, deliberate. “And watch you shatter.” The echo lingered longer than it should have. He thought he could chip away at me until I collapsed into dust. He didn’t realize—I’d already shattered. And from shattered things, sharper edges are born.