Novels by Royce Wrights

POV: Ember Wellesley.The wind had changed.It wasn’t just moving—it was guiding.Ember stepped to the edge of the ridge, eyes half-closed, the crystal in her palm humming in rhythm with her pulse. Below them, the valley stirred with unseen movement—roots twitching, stones shifting, like an old creature stretching awake.**ASHER (watching her)** It’s responding to you.She opened her eyes. For the first time, she wasn’t afraid of the pull.**EMBER** No. It’s recognizing me.Suddenly—**a sharp click** echoed from above. Asher turned too late.**THWIP.**A dart shot toward Ember, fast and precise.**ASHER** Ember!But she didn’t flinch. Her hand lifted instinctively, glowing faintly—like heat shimmering above a flame.The tranquilizer dart stopped inches from her chest. Hovered. Then—**snapped backwards** in mid-air as if struck by invisible force.It slammed into a tree with a thud.From above, Enid cursed.Ember raised her gaze to the slope above them and saw her—**Enid**, half-

POV: Ember Wellesley.The light filtered soft and gold through the wide windows. Ember stood by her desk, flipping through a stack of prints—her recent work. Mostly quiet shots: the way moss clung to the base of pine trees after rain, a deer frozen mid-step in the mist, and one she kept setting aside but couldn’t ignore—A photo she’d taken during a sleepless night.The earth had cracked open just past the southern ridge, steam curling from the soil like breath. In the center of the frame stood Asher, half in shadow, half bathed in silver light, his expression unreadable. The mountain loomed behind him like something ancient and watchful.She hadn’t meant to capture *that*, not exactly. But the moment had been real. Raw.Her phone buzzed.She glanced at it.**UNKNOWN NUMBER.**She almost didn’t answer.But something told her to.**EMBER (tentatively)** Hello?There was a pause. Then a crisp, modulated voice answered. Genderless. Almost too calm.**CALLER** Ms. Wellesley?**EMBER**

POV: Asher Nightshade.The once-pristine boardroom smelled like cold coffee and fear. Half the chairs were empty. The skyline beyond the glass wall felt distant—gray and uncaring.Asher stood at the head of the table. He looked tired in a way that wasn’t just physical—like something had hollowed him out, and he was still trying to figure out what parts were left.Across from him sat Marisol Vega, sharp-eyed and impeccably dressed despite the chaos. She’d been with the company since the beginning. Not a friend, exactly—but loyal when it counted.Three investors remained. Older men, hardened by years of risk. One tapped a pen against a notepad. Another scrolled his phone like he wanted to be anywhere else.ASHER (steady)You all read the report. We’re hemorrhaging faster than projected. Lark’s exit didn’t just gut our finances—he took half the tech with him. Patents, permits, drilling data...INVESTOR 1 (dryly)So the ship’s sinking. Why not just let it go down?Marisol leaned in, voice

POV: ASHER AND EMBER.The room was dim, lit only by the soft lamp on the desk and the fire flickering low in the hearth. Ember sat curled on the window bench, a worn blanket draped over her legs, one hand resting gently on her belly.Asher stepped in quietly, closing the door behind him. She looked up, sensing something was different.**EMBER** You’re late.**ASHER** Got caught in the library.He crossed the room and sat across from her, elbows on his knees. For a moment, he just looked at her. She had changed—so had he—but now he could *see* it, what Maela had seen.**ASHER (softly)** I talked to Maela. The girl who… knew about you. About your blood.**EMBER (tensing slightly)** What did she say?He hesitated.**ASHER** That you’re not just the cure. You’re part of something deeper. Something that *chose* you.Ember blinked, a mix of confusion and quiet dread passing across her face.**EMBER** I’m just… me, Asher. I didn’t ask to be part of any prophecy. I was locked in a

POV: Julian St. Clair.The sun hadn’t fully risen. The light coming through the windows was pale and unsure—like it didn’t quite know what kind of day it was meant to be.**Julian** stood in the doorway of the small private wing where **Vivianne** was being monitored. She was asleep, one hand resting lightly over her growing belly. It was barely visible yet, but real. Undeniable.He didn’t step in right away. Just stood there. Watching. Feeling the weight of everything that had come before pressing against his ribs like armor that didn’t fit anymore.A small bundle of baby clothes sat folded on the windowsill. Knit by hand. Soft grays and forest greens. Probably Ember’s work. Or one of the pack elders. Someone still hopeful.He finally stepped in.The room was quiet, save for Vivianne’s steady breathing. Julian pulled up the old chair beside her bed and sat, elbows on his knees, hands hanging between them.He spoke without looking at her.**JULIAN** “I don’t know what kind of father

POV: Asher Nightshade.The sun dipped behind the modern, fortified walls of Raven’s Peak, casting long, golden strokes across Asher’s study. The room, usually a refuge of quiet determination, felt heavy tonight. Stacks of untouched reports and blueprints sat on the desk while a half-open file bore the weight of his company’s fate.Ember’s soft breathing came from the nursery down the hall—her presence a gentle reminder of what they were fighting to protect.Asher’s phone buzzed insistently on the desk. Glancing at the screen, his face fell as he pressed play on a new voicemail from an unknown number.VOICEMAIL (muffled voice):“Asher Nightshade, this is Calvin Rowe from Rowan & Finch Law. We’ve just received confirmation of the final filings—Nightshade Power Inc. is formally declaring Chapter 11 bankruptcy. I’m sorry, sir. We did all we could. If you want to discuss options… please call me.”The line went dead. For a long moment, the only sound in the study was the slow tick of the wa