Scifi
Drex
1
(First Dawn Fragment Collab) Nobody tells you when the year really ends. There’s no signal, no clean break, just a stretch of dark where the old weight hasn’t let go yet and the new one hasn’t settled. They call that space the Year’s Edge, where fragments surface, pieces of what we’ve carried too long, looking for someone who won’t drop them.
At the first dawn, I found a fragment of dread.
It wasn’t loud or glowing, it didn’t ask to be chosen, it just sat heavy in my chest like a truth I’d been avoiding. Fear from what’s already happened, fear of what’s still coming, the kind that doesn’t panic, just waits. When I stopped running, it settled, like it finally recognized me.
Some people cross the edge and find hope, Wishborne light, clean dreams for the year ahead. Others find memories, echoes that still ache or still warm. Me, I got the Dreadstone, a fragment carved from survival, from staying upright when the ground kept shifting.
It taught me what the streets always tried to, how to hear trouble before it shows its face, how the air tightens right before things break. Now it hums behind my eyes, a steady pressure, not fear, just information.
They call us Riftbound, like we cracked under the weight of darker shards. Truth is, we just learned how to carry it. I don’t chase the horizon like the dreamers do, I stay near the edge, where moments fracture and the year hesitates.
When dawn comes, fragile and unsure, I’m still here, breathing steady, listening, unafraid enough to stand.
dystopian
