Shattered Dream Sans Novelas e Histórias

Then there were the fangs and the biting— Yeah—how high school is it to have dirty dreams about a vampire? To hell with it, because in these dirty dreams, Gaia had the best sex she'd ever had. It had gotten so bad, that on nights she didn't dream of him, she'd lie in bed using all her might to conjure his spirit. When these dreams did happen, Gaia could not control them. She always woke the next morning, sometimes sore, in her bed, alone, and fully clothed in pajamas that she never remembered putting on.

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.

' This could only mean one thing, Sia has regained her memories and lost her soul in the process' ################

“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.

Shattered Mate Bond: Book 2 Broken and Listening Sera pov The voices filtered through the haze of medication like radio stations cutting in and out. Male. Deep. Familiar in a way that made my chest ache even through the fog of painkillers. Aiden. My mate. The one who didn't want me.

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 days after the Dream Eater’s defeat were heavy with a muted exhaustion. The victory was ash in our mouths, overshadowed by Erica’s condition. The bleeding from her eyes had stopped, but the silver light of her Sight had not returned. She moved through the camp like a ghost, her eyes now perpetually distant, focused on a world only she could partially perceive, a world she described as “fractured” and “full of static.” Helena worked tirelessly, but the damage was psychic, spiritual, deep in the pathways of her gift. We had won a battle, but we feared we had lost our Seer.

"Same energy." Nathan shook his head and disappeared into the crowd, and Damien was left alone with his scotch and the low hum of a headache forming behind his eyes. He’d been sleeping badly. He’d been sleeping badly for three years, but lately it was worse, dreams that woke him at 3 a.m. with a name on his tongue and a weight on his chest that wouldn’t lift. Aria.