Novels2Search

POV: Dark Zoe’s Fractured Reflections

The shard glows faintly in my hands, its light flickering like it’s afraid of me. Good. It should be. Fragile little thing, trembling with its own power, pretending it’s untouchable. But everything breaks eventually. Especially here.

The air in the old chapel is thick—almost alive. It hums against my skin, cold and electric, full of promise. Shadows ripple across the crumbling stone walls, dancing in time with the shard’s glow. I like this place. It feels… honest. No pretense, no disguises. Just decay and darkness, unashamed of what it is.

The shard pulses weakly, a feeble attempt to resist my magic. I laugh, low and sharp. “Such fragile things,” I murmur, turning it over in my hands. “So desperate to stay whole.”

“You’re behind schedule,” a voice says, cutting through the stillness.

I don’t flinch. I don’t need to look up to know who it is. Their presence presses down on the room like a storm, heavy and unrelenting. I take my time, watching the shard’s light flicker before I glance toward the edge of the shadows.

It steps forward, tall and inhuman, its glowing eyes empty and endless all at once. It’s not one of my creations—not exactly. This one is older, darker, and far more dangerous. I smirk. Dangerous doesn’t scare me.

“Patience,” I say, letting the shard’s light catch on my fingers. “Breaking them takes time.”

“You’ve had time.” The voice is sharp, like glass splintering. “The convergence is nearing. If the barriers remain intact, our window closes.”

Their words are a knife, prodding at the weak places I don’t let anyone see. For just a moment, I grip the shard tighter. “They’re not as weak as I expected,” I admit, the words tasting bitter. “Her light... it’s stronger than mine was. She’s stronger than I was.”

And she has them. That thought gnaws at me, sharp and insistent. They flock to her—Lucian, Finn, the others—drawn to her light like moths. But moths burn in the end. They always burn.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

The figure moves closer, its shadow swallowing the faint glow of the shard. “You’re not her anymore,” it says, its voice a low, resonant hum that buzzes in my ears. “You’re something better. Something necessary.”

That word. Necessary. It sticks in my mind, worming its way past the cracks I try to ignore. I lift my chin, forcing my smirk to stay. “Necessary,” I repeat, tasting the weight of it. “I like the sound of that.”

I rise, the shard warm now in my hands. Its light flares briefly, fighting me, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters except the shadows swirling in the air, feeding off the magic I push into the shard. The chapel hums louder, the vibrations sinking into my bones. The walls ripple like they’re alive, shadows bleeding outward in jagged patterns.

“It doesn’t matter how strong they think they are,” I say, my voice louder now, feeding off the room’s energy. “Love, light, loyalty… all of it creates cracks. They’ll destroy themselves trying to hold this town together. I’m just giving them a little push.”

The figure watches, silent now, as the shadows stretch and twist. Its form flickers, and I feel the weight of its gaze even as it begins to fade.

“Don’t fail us,” it says, the words lingering in the cold air long after it’s gone.

For a moment, I stand still. Just me, the shard, and the shadows. The smirk slips from my face as I stare at the shard, its light dimming like it’s trying to escape me.

I see it then—just for an instant. A vision of the convergence, like a memory that hasn’t happened yet. The barriers between realms collapsing, shadow swallowing light, reality breaking apart. Whispering Pines won’t just fall. It’ll bleed into the spaces between worlds until nothing remains but darkness.

“I’m not her anymore,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the hum of magic. The words feel sharp in my mouth. “I’m not her. I’m better.”

The shard flares suddenly, its light slicing through the darkness, casting my shadow across the far wall. But it’s not just my shadow. Others join it—twisted, monstrous shapes that whisper my name, low and guttural, like a chant. Or a curse.

I let my smirk return, sharper this time, cutting away the doubt. “Let’s see how far her light can shine in the dark.”

The shard’s glow intensifies, feeding on my magic, and the shadows ripple outward. They’ll feel it soon. All of them.

I turn away from the shard and the ruined chapel, the shadows swirling at my heels like eager pets. They’ll break. Just like I did. And when they do, the light will finally go out.