Fragment Of Seren Novels & Stories

He stumbled back a step. “Hey, Eli. Look at me,” Elara said firmly, skating closer. “We are doing this to prove to everyone that my favorite queer on the ice isn’t backing down. Alright? Now give me that lively Eli with the step.” She hit play. The familiar dramatic notes of his short program filled the quiet arena. Elias pushed off.

"The way you're all sitting tells me it's not nobody. Put it on the page, ANDREI. I need to see it the same way he's going to see it." Another pause. SEREN is watching me the way she was watching me on the plane that steady, assessing thing but it's different now. Less calculating, more something I don't have a word for yet. "She's right," SEREN says quietly. SLATE types something. The printer on the counter hums once, and a new page slides out. I take it. I read the name. ---

he says and the four of us stand up to leave as he pauses the recording. “Serenity. Between friends... so that I know... for my peace of mind... is it the she-wolf... the one we both spoke to before lunch?” he asks cryptically, but I know who he means. We were both in the Luna office with Quoia. I nod at him and give him a sad smile. I turn to leave, not saying anything more. There is nothing left to say.

Serena. She stood perfectly still, draped in white silk that looked like funeral shrouds. Her eyes weren't blue anymore; they were a flat, dull silver-gray—the exact color of the Mother’s heart. Beneath her translucent skin, I could see the Fourth Fragment pulsing in her chest, a jagged Soul-Link that looked like a permanent wound. "Welcome back to the river, Aria," Serena whispered. Her voice was layered, a chorus of a thousand dead voices vibrating through a single set of stolen vocal cords.

I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. Kat’s brow furrowed. “The fragments don’t explain the rest. It’s… incomplete.” I crossed the room again, running a hand through my hair, frustration grinding at me from within. Kat flipped a page. “The Moonstone does not break without cause…” she read carefully, looking up at all of us. “…And what lives inside you… was not born.” We all froze. “Some things are created… when something sacred is broken,” Serene added softly, almost reverent.

The fire whispered, a lullaby of rage and power, promising that this was only the beginning. Serena stepped back, blending into the shadow of the nearest oak. Damien’s figure loomed on the horizon, a distant, unknowable force—her future tether, a reminder of what had been stolen, a challenge to reclaim. Lucia, rattled, stumbled to regain composure, but Serena did not give her the satisfaction of immediate recognition. She was the unseen storm now, the living ember that refused to die.

And with a soft, rough voice that cracked just a little, he said: “I never stopped loving you. Even when I didn’t know who I was, even when I was a closed off hardass to you—I still found you. You'll always be ill mia Sorellina.” (my little sister) I broke. Not loudly. Not dramatically. But the kind of cry that slips out slow and quiet, like something sacred’s been cracked open and finally set free. We sat like that, forehead to forehead, heart to heart. No need for anything more.

The words travel too far in too little space. The moment fractures. Word spreads like smoke. Faster than fire. Faster than thought. Seren is in the war chamber when she hears. She doesn’t run. She walks. Fast. Purposeful. Each step heavier than the last. Because if she runs, she will collapse. And she cannot fall now. When she enters his room, her breath catches in her throat. Not from relief. From recognition. From change.

Serene stepped out onto the patio in a skimpy dress and a cup of beer in her hand. She took a slow sip, sighing in satisfaction. But when she turned around, she jumped, Raphael was standing there like a ghost. She narrowed her eyes. “You know, you could at least pretend to be useful. Weren’t you supposed to deliver Thorne’s weaknesses to Matteo by now?” Raphael didn’t respond. Serene clicked her tongue. “Don’t tell me you’re still mooning over that girl who belongs to someone else.”