Freedom At Midnight Book Review Novels & Stories

" I went down and we said bye to them. Ryan texted me Goodbye. I thought he won't be back and I was right. He didn't show up. I was tired and I slept. The next morning I was enjoying my breakfast when Ryan called. He was asking to get ready. His mom wanted to buy some jewelry for me and wanted me to be with her too. I got ready and they were there to pick me up in an hour. I went shopping. We got free late in the evening and he dropped me home and went away. I was on the lawn and after dinner, I was walking and then I went back to my room. I was thinking of calling Ryan. He might have gotten free by then.

", Portia said as the dark mist disappeared. I ran to the gate and rushed in before it closes up, I ran to the room and covered myself up on my bed, drifting into sleep almost immediately. //////////////////////////////////////////// POV(ANASTASIA), I opened my eyes slowly and stretched as I yawned loudly, it's happening, finally, the warriors night, and I got a lot of work to do unless I'm running away, but it's not happening, I probably have to work hard. I should dream less and think more, I should learn to live the way I am, it's probably best that way. "Fiona come get the fabrics", Madam Pika called from outside and then I changed my mind, I don't want to like this it's annoying, maybe

“Thriller, mystery, nonfiction. But Midnight is a mix of—" “Fantasy, mystery, thriller, romance, and magic.” I put the book back on the coffee table. “Yes. The ending is just frustrating. I mean, he died for nothing.” “Excuse me?” As an author, I was offended. He laughed when he saw my reaction. “He didn’t die for nothing. His death was a pivotal moment that could start a revolution amongst the people who still believed in him. The start of a resistant movement against the empire.” He said nothing but smiled at me. It made me self-conscious that he may know something about me, but chose to keep it.

After that day, I explored almost all of the southern territory. I dived in the day and surfed in the evening. At night, I followed street bands into seaside bars. On a full moon night, I ran six miles along the coast with a group of strangers. My white fur was blown wild under the moonlight. In the end, I dived right into the sea and let the waves soak me from head to toe. I became more and more like my old self. No, I was more like myself than ever. Now, I wasn't chasing freedom to rebel against someone. Instead, I finally understood that I had always been allowed to live like this.

Without someone directing it. And for a second— it felt almost real. Until it didn’t. Because even here— I was aware. Of the time. Of the car outside. Of the fact that I wasn’t actually free to stay as long as I wanted. “…borrowed,” I whispered. That was the word. Not freedom. Borrowed freedom. Temporary. Conditional. I stopped in front of a shelf. My hand resting on a book. Not really seeing it. Just… there. And then—

But sleep, sleep eludes me, just as the last fragments of my humanity do. The city below me is nothing but a sea of lights, shadows, and meaningless noise. The low hum of Lunaris, my kingdom in the heart of Nocturne City, reverberates through my bones as I sit in my office, overlooking it all. The music, the laughter, the subtle thrill of desperation and pleasure—it’s all in my control. I own the night. I own this city. No one dares to challenge me, and those who try? Well, they learn the hard way why I’ve remained untouchable for centuries.

Sophia flinched and scurried out, her eyes darting between Theodore and me. Once we were alone, the tension in the air thickened. Theodore's brow furrowed. “When I struck this deal with you, I didn’t intend for you to try to rewrite Midnight’s culture.” I crossed my arms defiantly, meeting his gaze with determination. “If Midnight’s culture requires women within its borders to have no control over their own destiny, then it’s not much of a culture at all, Theodore. It’s a prison.” He opened his mouth to retort, but I pressed on. “But it’s your pack. I can only make suggestions I think are beneficial..”

“Please, whatever it is you’re thinking, he’s not going to come. He doesn’t care about me. Please, just let me go.” It feels like someone reached down into my soul, plucked out the very last vestige of my pride, and set it ablaze into oblivion. “I promise I will not say anything to anyone. I’ll keep my mouth shut…just let me go, please.” I cried, begging…not giving a goddamn fuck about pride. All my attention could focus on was the cold blade pressed firmly against my flesh and my bladder getting weaker and weaker, threatening to explode any moment. “He’ll come, and I’ll be ready when he does,” he said confidently. “Now, I’ll have to make an art out of you.”

I didn’t get into college, so I took a job driving a city bus. Once I finished training, I started working the night shift with Uncle Tim. He had always been the kind of guy who followed every rule. But that night, he wouldn’t let me pick up a single passenger. He even made me keep the bus dark the entire route. Uncle Tim died shortly after that incident. A few days later, someone told me something that made my blood run cold. Uncle Tim had actually been dead for quite some time. So who the hell had been riding with me that night?

“Good. I’ve been working on that.” We both laughed quietly, the sound unfamiliar but welcome. --- Later that night, I couldn’t sleep. The air was still, heavy with the scent of rain and pine. I got up quietly and walked outside. The moon hung low, full and glowing. For a long time, I stood there, breathing it in. I thought of everything—the fights, the running, the pain. And the truth hit me hard. Freedom wasn’t about being alone. It was about choosing where you belonged.