Ash And Oblivion Full Name Novels & Stories

But she wasn’t the girl Nathaniel had tried to destroy. No. That girl was dead. And in her place stood the storm he never saw coming. Everything that had happened in the last few years felt like a fever dream stitched together with pain. The fire. The betrayal. Damien pulling me back from the brink of death. The surgeries. The bandages. The new face. The therapy. And then the planning. So much planning. They thought I died... Well, let them keep thinking it. Ashen Group wasn’t just an empire—it was a weapon. My weapon. Born in the ashes of my old life. Fueled by betrayal and designed to give power back to women who had been crushed, controlled, discarded. Like me.

Taking a step forward, I began to go to help, but the beautiful mysterious man halted me. “It’s too late.” His fingers were hot upon my wrist. “What do you mean? You mean…you are here for them?” I stepped back towards him, but I didn’t pull my arm away from his warm grip. “Not all of them, just one. The rest have gone up above. I strictly work below.” “Are you the Grim Reaper?” Tears were building up in my eyes. “My name is Ash and you can say I am the Devil’s right-hand man,” he said. A tear glided down my cheek. Ash reached to my skin and wiped it. “Do I scare you?”

“Good. Skepticism. The young in my day swallowed prophecy like milk. It curdled them.” Behind her, Scar muttered, “I like him already.” Luna did not take her eyes off the stranger. “Who are you?” she asked. “What are you?” He tilted his head. Something in that tilt—wary, analytical—echoed an old posture she had seen in the Moon Temple statues. “I am Ashar,” he said. “Once called Ashar of the First Circle. Alpha of Ashen Reach. Pact-holder. Gate-watcher. And very, very tired of being dead.”

But it was impossible not to remember. “I’m sorry, Asher. I’m so sorry...” Asher had spent two years building himself back from ashes. He’d changed his name, his country, his entire world, just to never feel that kind of devastation again. And now? He was watching the same man who destroyed him… being destroyed. There was a part of him, a darker, colder part, that almost welcomed it. Good. Let him see what it feels like to be burned alive. But the rest of him?

I had not the guts to ask if that part of the process was totally necessary or not more or less consider the underlying fact that they knew what my name was. "Lira." "Your full name, Lira. It's thoroughly necessary." He clarified. "Okay…" I muttered with a nod. "It's Delira, Delira Ashwyn." I responded. "Ashwyn? As in the Ashwyn pack, the one invaded by rogues some years back?" Elyan questioned.

He stands behind me, arms crossed, a shadow refusing to be drawn in. The old rogue begins to speak. “She came in the season between the moons. The one with no name. The one where wolves forgot their howls. She wore no crown. No mate-mark. No Alpha’s scent.” The hum continues beneath her voice, like breath rising from old earth. “She walked alone into the Bone Lands, where no pack claimed the soil. Her hands bled spiral. Her eyes burned red. Her name was ash. Her tether already severed.” A shiver ripples through the pack. No one looks at me.

Please come with us. Her eyes locked onto mine. There was a faint trace of pleading in them. I closed my eyes and pretended not to see. A few days later, the results came out. Stella admitted she had killed Hudson. She had sent the child to an orphanage. She would be facing more than a decade in prison. By then, I had already renamed the company. Holt Group. Cassia and I held a grand wedding. At the ceremony, I looked at her gently. "Will you marry me?"

My cheeks turned red, and I pretended to be annoyed as I lightly smacked Lucas on the behind. When I looked up, my eyes met the man’s intense gaze. It left me feeling incredibly shy. As time passed, we got to know each other better. His name was Ryan Evans, and he owned a company with decent revenue. Most importantly, he was still single. I was not entirely ready for a new relationship, and I was still healing from my past. So, I remained clear-headed in the face of his advances. While I remained open, I did not rush into anything.

“No. But I should have. Guys like you usually bring them with you.” I smirked. “Guys like me?” “Leather, tattoos… gunshot wound,” he said dryly. “You scream of trouble.” He wasn’t wrong. “And you don't want any of that?” “Name’s Ash,” I muttered when he didn't reply and finally regretted it. Where were we? Tenth grade? I was watching him move around the small room tending to my wounds with precision. “Noah.” He finally said, not looking up. “Thanks, Noah.”