Novel & Cerita Ash X Mallow

Lira (POV) The air in the cleansing room isn’t just thick—it’s choking. The stench of incense coils through my nostrils like burning hair and spoiled meat. They’ve burned the same mix every time—wolfsbane ash, marrow dust, grave lilies. It doesn’t just linger. It infests. I can feel it creeping under my skin, nesting in the hollow behind my ribs. A curse-wearing perfume.

“They know. Even if you won’t admit it.” The gate shuddered again. A second crack split through it, running from top to bottom like a lightning bolt. Light poured through the gap—not sunlight, but a sickly, grey light that made the shadows crawl. From beyond, something moved. A shape. Tall. Human, but wrong. Its skin looked like it was made of ash and stone, shifting with every step. No eyes. Just two hollows where eyes should be. “The Ash Man,” Malric whispered. His voice was almost reverent.

She didn't think so, but then again she knew nothing about any of this. Finding what he was looking for Ash made his way back over to Danica. "I'm going to need you to eat this." He said holding out a sprig of something green and leafy. "What is this?" Danica asked eyeing it. "This is Ashwangandha," Ash explained. "It will help you relax. When I begin I need you to not fight against me, otherwise this could go terribly wrong and fast." "Go wrong?" Danica didn't exactly like the sounds of that. "Like how?"

Using a single bullet each, I take them all out. I watch as Xavier runs from the forest, heading in the direction of Jax. He smiles as he sees a series of orange marks all over Jax. "Dude, you're not actually dead. They're just paintballs." "Ah, that may be true, but my pride is still injured."

’ Sasha growled back irritated. ‘Put your pants on, let’s go. Bring that pretty girl with you too’ I heard someone else call. Sasha covered his face with his hands in exasperation. I felt my skin flush in embarrassment at what they must think we were doing. I made my way to the bathroom with my clothing while Sasha put his shirt back on to answer the door. I looked at myself in the mirror noting that my lips were swollen, my hair disheveled and there were red and blue marks on my breast where Sasha had squeezed and nibbled. There was a soft knock at the door. ‘Malyshka can I talk to you a second?’ I opened the door slightly to let Sasha in. He looked down at my breast and caressed them softl

It seemed that her jogged memory was becoming more lucid, rather than a figment of a dreamy imagination. Across from the mute human, Asher's growing restlessness was evident. The vein on his forehead was throbbing, and his left lower eyelid began its comical twitching act. Asher's knuckles were ready to pop out of their joints from holding the steering wheel too tightly. The Alpha male tried to take in a few deep breaths, but the suffocating scent of sweet, ripe oranges, filled his lungs and stimulated the monster inside him.

As if the unknown heard, our surroundings start to fill with shadows— massive like it was going to swallow us all. Then it disappeared into thin air, leaving its remnant on the floor. Xander seems to return back to his normal state.He frowns deeply, staring at that black remnants with palpable fear in those eyes. “Xander? What is it?” I ask, my voice almost a whisper yet it feels sharp against the thick silence. He doesn't answer nor spare me a glance but runs upstairs into one of the rooms. Drax and I exchange a look of worry.

Malachi stepped into the room, his footsteps echoing against the floor. Asher slammed the book shut, the sound echoing like a gunshot through the empty hall as he fixed his gaze on Malachi. Malachi stepped closer, his head bowed low, his voice wavering. "My lord... about the tonic. I won’t be able to brew another batch for some time." Asher’s glare was lethal, his eyes narrowing as he waited for an explanation. "I’ve run out of several key ingredients," Malachi continued quickly, terrified to admit that Martha had accidentally spilled the previous one he had brewed.

The hatch shifts slightly. Locked, but old. Rust weakens everything over time. Rowan uses the last of his strength and slams into it once—hard. The hatch gives. It bursts open with a metallic shriek. Rowan freezes. Sound. Too much sound. Too loud. But it’s done. The hatch is open. Cold air rushes in from above, carrying street scent—oil, smoke, wet pavement. Rowan climbs out. I follow. We emerge into a narrow alley behind a row of boarded buildings, the city’s glow distant but present, streetlights bleeding pale light into the darkness.