Fractured Freedom Novels & Stories

The world I had been t rapped in didn't just crack. It shattered.

When I was little, I was poisoned by wolfsbane. My sister Fiona saved me. After that, she always said, "I saved your life. You should be grateful. Never forget what I've done for you." So whenever I had good food or pretty clothes, I gave them to her if she wanted them. When I turned eighteen, the pack chose a fiancé for me. Fiona told me, "Don't trust any man so easily. Let me check them out for you first. If they're not right, you shouldn't marry them." So she went on dates with those men on my behalf, from refined gentlemen to charming, outgoing guys. Every time she came back, she looked disappointed. "Zoey, this guy seems really shady. He's not right for you." "Zoey, this guy is all swee

Was born rich or poor I was born free In the world People in power Bring back rules Why catching speed A way to be unwept Let my heart decide What's stagnant What's at unrest I do not occupy speed I do not acknowledge the light I am free in the dark world Freedom is my light Do not stop me Nor enable me to flight I am free to choose my speed Likewise Like revised I don't encounter dust Feet are not of worth to you But for me It's freedom To take me Where rules fail, too I am free to acknowledge Choice is within me I don't say I didn't do To achieve is to be true I am not a slave to success On which scale You compare me With the other I am free in the world I don't blow dust On anyone's face

Dark energy crackles, lashing out. Get down! Kieran’s voice, useless and frantic, but the instinct is mine. I throw myself sideways. The corrupted earth where I stood explodes. Chunks of blighted soil rain down. The backlash hits the corrupted form. A shriek, unearthly, agonized. The carefully constructed body… fractures . Mossy skin splits, revealing writhing darkness beneath. Glowing veins rupture, spilling sickly light like pus. It stumbles back, clutching at its chest, howling. Not pain. Rage. Betrayal.

In that occasion, she looked pitiable for me. Having sympathy to those people who were destined to fight me, was just a weakness. I didn't want to show my weakness anymore, because it would be an impediment in gaining my freedom. At the same time, I realized that seeking for freedom was never been easy, it needed an enormous sacrifice, bravery and patience.

--- Both sides were no longer controlled by patterns alone. --- And as the invisible chains that once dictated every move began to shatter— One final truth emerged: --- Freedom was not safety. --- It was risk. --- Because once the chain was broken— --- There was nothing left to guide you. --- Only your choices. --- And in a war like this— --- One wrong choice— --- Could change everything.

"You're experiencing a breakdown." "Absurd?" I chuckle, but there's nothing funny about it. It's the noise of something being unleashed. "I'm experiencing freedom for the first time in months." I take another fragment of the shattered bracelet—the biggest one, with the coiled antenna still there—and hit it once more, crushing it beneath my foot until it’s merely contorted metal, sparks, and shattered hopes.

"I healed. Some. I built a life. A business. A future. But I never forgot. Never stopped being partly that girl. That trapped thing. Part of me is still there. Still in that cage. Even free. That's the truth. The cost. But I still chose freedom. Still chose to try. To live. To be more than what he made me. And that was worth it. Even incomplete. Even broken. It was worth it." "And if I can't get free? If this is my life? Forever?" "Then you survive. You find moments. You take what pieces you can. And you hold onto yourself. However you can. Wherever you can. Don't let them take everything. Keep something. Anything. Even if it's just a memory of who you were. A moment of choice. A secret rebe

I finished the last stroke of my sketch and when I looked up, I looked right into Lilian's gaze as she leaned against the doorframe. She was holding two cups of coffee, squinting at my sketch behind those black-rimmed glasses. "The wings on the final draft of 'Caged' have three more fractures than the first version." My fingers froze. On the page, the bird's shattered feathers still reached stubbornly upward, exactly like my own heart the night I huddled in the supply room drawing this series. I drank the coffee, its bitter warmth spreading across my tongue. "Fractures are the price of breaking free from the cage, and the cracks let the light in."

With a blade of remembrance, she carved a single word into the base: Libertas. Freedom. The journey was far from over. But the tide had turned. And they would never be slaves to shadows again.