Shattered Dream Novels & Stories

Just a girl. Shattered.

In that pitch-blackness, with only the faint, lingering scent of cologne in the air, I finally let myself give in. I wept. I wept until my chest felt tight. I wept until my tears blurred everything around me. I wept until the sound of my own cries was the only thing I could hear. And in that never-ending, suffocating solitude, I drifted into a restless, fragmented sleep, knowing that when morning came, the world would wake up to my shame, and there would be no one to save me.

Serena’s smile was pure poison. “There it is,” she whispered. “The moment your power falters.” I tried to speak, but blood filled my throat. She twisted the shard. I screamed. The dream forest distorted, the sky spinning, my vision blurring into streaks of color. Serena leaned close, breath cold against my cheek. “Next time,” she whispered, “I’ll make sure you don’t wake up.” She yanked the shard out— And I fell. Fell through darkness. Fell through pain.

Annabelle’s eyes met his one last time—full of pain, sorrow, and a silent plea that shattered his soul. A cold voice echoed through the darkness, sharp and accusing. “You failed them.” The words were knives, slicing through his heart. His mind screamed, but no sound escaped. In the silence that followed, he felt the crushing weight of guilt and loss, drowning him in a sea of despair. Then the dream shattered. The darkness swallowed him whole. Devon’s eyes fluttered open slowly, the dim light filtering through the window blurring into focus. The world felt heavy, unfamiliar—his body weak, every breath shallow and uneven. Yet beneath the exhaustion, a fire ignited deep inside him.

The memory was a shard of glass in my heart. “What we had?” The words were quiet, but they cut deeper than a shout. “You mean the years you let me believe I was broken, while you knew the truth? The art you stole from me? The child you murdered? That’s not a marriage, Vincent. That’s a damnation.” "It was a misunderstanding! It was all Sophia’s plan!" Vincent sobbed, tears and blood mixing on his face. "I already made her pay! I made her life a living hell!"

I felt dizzy, like the floor was tilting. Then I saw a folder labeled **Twenty-one**. Inside wasn't a toy or a gadget. It was a list of several top colleges, and clipped to the back were letters—official, stamped letters—confirming guaranteed scholarship payments. My breath left me in a sharp scream. I was going insane. I was actually losing it. The dreams I had buried years ago, the ones I thought were dead and gone, he had dug them up and handed them back to me on a silver platter.

“Mate. She’s our mate. All three of us.” I shook my head, tears mixing with sweat on my face. Even in the haze of heat, my gullible heart soared with foolish hope. “That can’t be true. I’m nobody. Traitor’s daughter. Mara’s right, I’m worthless. You guys are princes, and I’m just—”

And throughout it all, the shards called to her with desperate urgency, each one a fragment of broken promise crying out for recognition and reunification. In the dream, she could see them scattered across impossible vast lands… some buried deep in earth, others suspended in void, a few clutched in hands both living and dead. Each shard pulsed with its own unique frequency, and together they formed a symphony of longing that pulled at something fundamental in Aria's consciousness. They wanted to be whole again, wanted to return to the unified state they had occupied before betrayal shattered divine promise into uncountable pieces.

"The child—something's wrong. Her power is spiraling. If we don't stop it, she's going to tear a hole in reality itself." I run to Mira's building with Kael close behind. What I see there makes my blood run cold. The structure is half-dissolved into dream-matter—walls that shift between solid and liquid, floors that are sometimes stone and sometimes clouds, ceilings that show alien skies. And at the center of it all, Mira lies unconscious, her body glowing with silver light so bright it hurts to look at. "I can feel her dream," I say, extending my dreamweaving senses. "She's trapped in a nightmare. Being chased by something. She's running and running but she can't escape, and her fear is man

Then he was gone. I shut the door. The bolt was a joke, the wood splintered. It didn’t matter. The immediate hunt was over. A deep, bone-grinding exhaustion hit me like a physical wave. I didn’t even bother with the cot; I just collapsed onto the thin mattress, and the world went black. The dreams weren’t kind. They were fractures. Glimpses of impossible places. A cathedral of weeping stone under a blood-red sky. A labyrinth of chrome and screaming data. A frozen tundra where the wind carried whispers of dead players. High-level Instances. Death traps.