Fractured Freedom Novels & Stories

" Quentin raised his fist, ready to strike her, but his last ounce of self-control kicked in at the last second. "You cold-hearted bitch! You don't deserve a damn bit of love for the rest of your life!" he roared. Taylor shot him a look full of contempt, her expression daring him to make a move. "Go ahead, make your move if you've got the guts! Yeah, I'm behind bars, but you're not any better for destroying evidence, are you? "I'm stuck in this mess, and you think you're going to have a happy life? Yeah, you did once, but she's dead now, all because of your indecision and distrust!

In—fracture. Because now it wasn’t being resisted. It was being forced apart. the space cracked. violent. the wolves stepped back. all of them. because now they felt it. the difference. the break. the choice being made. the thing surged one last time. desperate. trying to hold on. trying to remain. trying to—become us.

I watched it happen. That’s more powerful than a voice. That’s more dangerous than rebellion. It means he’s human under all that king-made steel. And if he can break once, he can break again. I crouch by the wall after they leave, my fingers tracing the path of the soup as it runs down the stone, now sticky and lukewarm. I press into it, not for taste or nourishment, but for reminder. The moment has to be remembered exactly. Where his eyes faltered. Where his arm stiffened. That crack will widen. I don’t need freedom yet. I need leverage. And leverage is built on knowing where the fractures lie.

"To all men in the world… Think twice before breaking a promise to a woman. Never hurt a woman, because you never know what she may become. Their hearts are fragile; treat them like eggs. They care deeply about the men they love, but once you're off their list, your existence or demise means nothing to them anymore… "If a broken woman seeks revenge, be prepared to face the worst fate. Women are the salt of the earth; the sweeteners of the universe. Once they set their minds on something, they're unstoppable…

Standing at the breaking point. Letting the fracture speak.

But the thing beyond the fracture wanted total convergence. No individuality. No distinction. No separate possibilities at all. Only singular endless existence. The eye laughed once— Strained now. “You misunderstand us.” The shifting gaze narrowed toward the thing behind the fracture. “It is not freedom.” The larger entity answered coldly: “Freedom creates fragmentation.” The figure spoke immediately: “And fragmentation creates existence.” Silence crashed outward. Luke stared sharply toward the figure. Because it had just defended individuality. The figure noticed his expression. And answered flatly:

Always. "Together?" I asked. "Always," four voices replied. But this time, the word felt different. Not certainty. Not confidence. Just desperate hope that together would be enough. One more time. Against enemies who were our own people. Against the Architect's counter-revolution. Against the fundamental question: Was freedom worth fighting for if people chose slavery? We had two weeks to find the answer. And everything we had built depended on getting it right. The Broken Crown faced its greatest test yet.

His eyes were fixed on the glass he’s holding, it’s almost as if he’s watching the liquor dance as he moves it. “Of course I was mad. A part of me resented her because she betrayed me for another man. She made me question my worth, she hurt me in ways no one could,” His jaw clenched harshly. “But I can’t do anything about it, Ellyse. Love will never be enough if trust is broken. Maybe a part of me wanted her to beg, to tell me that it was only a mistake she’ll never commit again. But she didn’t. And that in itself already spoke volumes to me,” Riden placed his glass down, clasped his fingers together before looking at her.

The legend of the Black Mountain was a story told by children who had never known the weight of a hammer. ​I looked at the shattered gear in Killian’s hand, a broken piece of a world that was no longer perfect. It was a reminder that freedom is a process of constant repair. It is the friction of the heart against the coldness of the universe. I walked to the edge of the turbine pit and watched the massive pistons plunging up and down, their motion a testament to our stubborn refusal to fade away into the silence.

The restraints on my wrist caused my back to be slammed onto the the metal pole behind me. "Fuck." I muttered as I slowly got back up. I wasn't going to give up. I heard two more gun shots and I started to get anxiety. My hands starting shaking and I couldn't even hold on to the heavy shackles because of how rapidly my hands were shaking. I took a deep breath and tried to calm my breathing. "He's not going to die, I'm not going to let that happen." I convinced myself. I squeezed my eyes shut and let a tear fall.