Shattered Dream Sans Novels & Stories

He sank onto the floor, staring at the broken chair pieces. “Fuck!” he muttered under his breath. Every piece of wood on the ground reminded him of how his trust had been shattered. In that moment, he felt as if his whole life was splintered like the chair. Outside, the sound of a car approaching made him sit up. He went to the window and pulled the curtain aside just a little, careful not to be seen. In the parking lot, he could make out Dante’s figure alongside two others. Rico, who always tried to be strong, looked barely able to stand, while Gio and Leo carried their own marks of injury. Their faces were tired and pained.

he called out. Vanessa had just ended her call when she heard the voice. Turning around, her eyes met the gaze of her treacherous husband, Lucas, the man who had shattered her soul and broken her heart to pieces three years ago. Hatred coursed through her veins, but she maintained a calm and nonchalant expression "V... Vanessa?" Lucas stuttered, unsure if he was dreaming. The woman before him couldn't possibly be Vanessa. That timid, pathetic woman he once knew could never transform into this stunning beauty.

he said, his tone dripping with disdain. The words cut deep, and Veda felt her heart shattering into a million pieces. "I thought our vows meant something," she whispered. Adyant snorted. "Vows? Those were just empty promises, Veda. We both knew it." Veda's eyes widened in shock as the reality check of her shattered vows laid bare in front of her fragile heart. "How can you say that?" she demanded, her voice laced with pain. Adyant's gaze locked onto hers.

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.

Isadora: The dream starts with glass. A thousand shards suspended in midair—silver, sharp, endless—each one catching a flicker of light that doesn’t belong to this world. I stand in the middle of it, barefoot on the fractured reflection of myself. My blood looks like mercury, spilling upward instead of down, gravity bending wrong in the dream the way my reality does now. And then, like clockwork, I feel them. The boys. My monsters. My anchors.

Well, he might, if Bash ever recovered. He settled into bed and drifted off into a restless sleep after being awake all day. Thoughts of revenge filled Quin’s dreamless slumber. Normal 0 false false false EN-US X-NONE X-NONE /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-priority:99; mso-style-parent:"";

My heart is hitting my ribcage with so much force I can barely even hear her. How in the baloney does she want me to relax? I glance over at the judge's table, the fan girl in me clawing its way out as my eyes land on Crash Course Rebellion's star drummer, Brendan O'Connor. His natural blonde hair is kept short, unlike his best friend's, and his sky-blue eyes can have every girl swooning with just one glance. Even from behind his prescription glasses, he can make all the girls in his vicinity fall at his feet. His arms are eye candy for those in love with muscles and men will kill to have a body as good as his. I would know; I've got tons of magazine posters of him. Shirtless, might I add.

He hurled the shard; it spiraled through the chamber, trailing violet sparks. Vera felt the shard’s psychic ripple—deadly and precise. She leapt forward, chanting her Dream Sovereign song in a fierce whisper: > “By star and fang, by blood and bone, > We claim the throne you stole by stone. > Your crown of lies, now overthrown, > Falls to dust beneath the true heir’s own.” Lucien roared in unison, wolf-pulse crashing through the dais’s pylons. The shard fragmented in midair as dream-silk threads wrapped it, dissipating its charge in a shimmer of silver light.

“I didn’t ask to be an anchor.” “No one ever does,” Sophia whispered. “But someone has to hold the dream to the ground.” --- The Shared Dream — A Fracture Within the global dreamscape, a ripple of discord spread. Where once the world shimmered with unity, shadows began to gather. Fear, doubt, grief — all the quiet ghosts humanity carried — bled into the resonance. The dream began to waver, edges fraying like fabric under strain. Sophia felt it first — a sharp, discordant pull. Across the void, she saw fragments of nightmare taking form: crumbling cities, firestorms, faces twisted in anger. Human imagination had turned on itself.

The fragmented being trembled weakly. “Not in words.” A pause. “In absence.” That explained absolutely nothing. And somehow made the dreams worse. The shard of the eye floated near the ceiling lazily. Though Luke noticed it no longer wandered far from populated realities. As if even possibility itself dislikes being alone now. The shard spoke quietly: “The dreams are contact.” Nyra looked horrified. “You said the crack closed.” “It did.” The shard rotated slowly. “But awareness remains.” Luke rubbed his exhausted face. “So what exactly is it doing?”