Fragments Of The Past Novels & Stories

They were being observed, manipulated, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. Inside, the four of them felt the creeping weight of paranoia. Every glance, every hesitation, every half-spoken word carried a thousand possibilities. Trust fractured like thin ice underfoot, and each of them wondered silently who would break first. If the person behind the messages had returned after ten years, if the victim might still be alive, then none of them were safe. The forest had claimed them once before, and now it seemed to extend its reach beyond the trees, into the rooms, into their thoughts, into their very nerves.

This was the first time in ten years that I had ever spoken to Josie like this. Josie frowned. "You were the one who refused to save him back then. If it weren't for you, Alex wouldn't have suffered. Everything you have now should have belonged to him!" She threw the ointment at me. She no longer bothered to pretend she cared. For all these years, I had always felt guilty because of that incident. I always put them first. I forced down the despair inside me and spoke with a trembling voice. "If it weren't for me, you would've died long–"

She had extended her stay through the anniversary of the combined shift and was, she had told my father with the calm of someone who has no remaining urgency because the most significant work of her life has been completed and she is simply following what comes naturally after it, in no particular hurry to leave. She came to the library the evening after the archive placement with the Westmarch fragments in her hands — the two-century-old pieces that had been the key to the pre-governance translation — and set them on the table between us. "I need to tell you something about the fragments," she said. I looked at them.

Kael demanded. I stared at the fragment, my heart racing. “It’s real,” I said. “That’s not helpful.” “It was one,” I continued, trying to steady my breathing. “All of it. Not separate. Not divided.” Silas’s expression darkened slightly. “And now?” “Now it’s broken,” I said. “Split into pieces.” Kael looked at the fragment again. “And this is one of them.” “Yes.” Silas’s grip tightened slightly. “How many?”

"What do we know about the other fragments? The ones that were scattered." Zyren looked at Caelum. Caelum looked at Mia with the expression of a man reassessing the size of something he thought he had measured. "She went straight to the right question," Caelum said to Zyren, something like satisfaction in his voice. "She always does," Zyren said. "Answer her." "The archive has partial records of two other fragments," Caelum said. "Their locations were last documented one hundred years ago. Whether they are still there…"

The hopelessness giving the last shove. Everything became hot. The pain and anger I had buried inside erupting and blowing every shadow in my mind away. Nothing was untouched. I felt myself drop to the floor as the fire inside me began to eat at me. I sobbed and felt the tears evaporate. The uncontrollable tendrils consuming me and everything around me. My vision was hazy as I dared open my eyes to see a light full of pain and anger. I felt myself falling apart, everything spilling out into the open as I screamed all of my frustrations and pain. All of my regrets and hope. Crying out all of my mistakes. All the mistakes of my past.

In her past life, Elara Newman had married Orion Baron, who turned out to be an absent husband. On the day she gave birth, she suffered a severe hemorrhage and lost consciousness. However, Orion was unreachable. After she was snapped awake by the doctor, she had to sign her name on the surgical consent form while her hands were still shaking. When her children caught a raging fever, Orion was still nowhere to be seen. She had to rush to the hospital all by herself, and after three consecutive days of looking after them, she was exhausted and passed out in the corridor. On the day when her parents passed away in a car accident, Orion was still absent. As she returned home with the urn

The cake he'd surprised me with in the morning before we left to work had brought tears to my eyes and the surprise he was planning for later was uncalled for, really. Kayden had given me a second chance of making everything right and I was not going to screw it up. I was still trying to pick up the pieces of my shattered life and piece them back together, five years later. I may have fallen to the ground but I trusted myself to get up too. "... Isla?" An irritated voice snapped me from my reverie and I turned around to meet Maeve's signature frown. She raked her manicured fingers in her hair which was too blonde to be true and stepped closer, her expensive perfume suffocating me.

Taking the fragments with them. The hunt had begun. And somewhere in the city— one fragment remained. Still glowing. Still waiting. Still calling. To Be Continued...

Sealed. Buried. Erased. Then darkness. Endless. Silent. Empty. The man inhaled sharply and the vision shattered. He stood in the forest again. The mountain still watching from the distance. But the past had left a scar behind. His hand rose slowly to his temple. “Fragments,” he murmured. His voice carried quiet frustration. Thousands of years sealed away and his memories were nothing but broken shards. Names. Faces. Wars. All gone. Except one truth.