Ashen One And Fire Keeper Novels & Stories

-- I dreamt I stood in the ash-ring on the ridge again. Except it wasn’t burned out this time. It was blazing. Spiral flames rose around me, taller than any pyre. And inside the fire—shapes moved. Some were wolves. Some were me. Versions of me I didn’t remember being. Or maybe hadn’t become yet. One knelt beside a dead man. One held a newborn. One wore a crown made of bone and blood and thorn. They didn’t speak. But they watched. And in the center of the fire stood Kael.

Ember (As Ash) POV The witch didn’t flinch when fire hissed at my fingertips. Her shadow bled across the doorway, stretching long and unnatural, her voice smooth as poison poured into wine. “Ash,” she said, savoring the name like it was a lie she’d already unwrapped, “you wear a mask well. But fire always leaks through the cracks.” My jaw locked. I forced the glove back over my burning palm, smothering the rune’s glow. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I couldn't help but smile sheepishly. I jumped in jubilation as I watched Asher walk toward me. He was truly a warrior, a man whom I'd grown to love. As Asher walked closer to me, I heard a loud bang. A gunshot from far into the woods. Another batch of warriors was coming to fight us. Leading them was Christopher's mother, Anabel. Asher stumbled to the ground. He wasn't dead, but weak... Pain consumed me, the pain of losing him, the fear of being alone again. I tried to scream, but something else rushed through me... powerful and hungry, fueled by my anger and pain.

Moonlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, stretching across the marble floor. I knelt on the balcony, applying a special herbal balm to the skin beneath my ribs—to the scars left by silver weapons thirteen years ago. They still ached. The scars always ached under the full moon, a cruel reminder of a past I fought to forget. "You're still using that balm." I didn't turn around. Kaelen's footsteps were loud on the cold marble. "I thought you'd forgotten that pain," he said. The anger was gone from his voice, replaced by something I couldn't quite place.

I watched the life drain from his eyes, and with a final, satisfying crack, I snapped his neck. "Shadow Guard!" I roared into the forest. "Tear them apart!" The inhibitor had weakened us, but it hadn't erased our strength entirely. Rage and vengeance burned like a wildfire, fueling our return to the fight. My warriors surged forward like beasts unleashed. Gunshots rang out, but no one cared. We were wolves. We were predators. And tonight, the forest would run red with their blood. I snatched a silver dagger from the ground and lunged at the nearest mercenary.

Once he pulled back, she hit his other arm and he gave her a strange look, as if not expecting it. “You are crazy,” she whispered with a frown. “Okay listen, Ash,” he said and started to pull the leather jacket he wore from the other arm first. “There are people out there trying to kill me, but since you are with me, they’ll probably want you dead too.” “Who are they? What do they want from you?” she asked and saw him trying to snap the arrow. “Hunters,” he answered. “I didn’t think they would attack this early, but they did choose the right time. Most of the students are already home or on their way home so it’ll be easy to compel the few.”

“Magnus, tonight you die!’ In one swift movement, she plunged the dagger between his eyes, twisting it until his eyes closed, with an inhuman scream from the depths of hell itself. ‘It’s not over yet,’ Faye announced. ‘We must burn them. Fire is the only way to cleanse the world of them forever.’ In the clearing in the woods, they found Whisper and August waiting for them. The husks were chained as Mark and Eli dragged them to where a pyre had already been prepared. ‘Well done, young witch. Well done to all of you. Tonight, this mortal world is a safer place to be.’ At the sound of Whisper’s voice, Sybil, Eli, and Mark gasped in unison. Whisper appeared to bask in their surprise, enjoying th

His focus went back to what he held in his hands and that stirred up some questions in my head that I had to ask. He spoke calmly and that reduced the tension in the room. “Are you some type of a genie?” “It’s not a kettle, it's an urn.” “Do you live there?” “I just said I'm a wolf shifter, young girl?” He always has this 5-7 seconds of uncomfortable pause before he speaks, like he tries to formulate words in his head. “My ashes were kept there.” His throat worked Your ash? Please, Emmett, make everything you're saying make sense and be more realistic

And yet instead of being comforted, coldness crept up and down her body. She shook her head and opened the paper bag. Her hand raised a black bonnet, in which she placed on her head until only a pair of cold blue eyes gleamed under the moon. She picked a lighter out from her pocket and lit the the paper bag on fire. A plastic scent filled her nose, but it was quickly replaced by the smell of smoke and the scattered ashes. She blew on the lighter, and the flame went out, then she looked back up to the sky and glared.

“D.C. and Duskbane both!” Good. Let them watch. Ash stands at the peak. Thirteen. Unblinking. Hair floating in heat that should cook her. She raises her other hand. The fire splits. Two walls. Curling. Trying to flank us. Clever girl. “Sybil!” I shout. “Why?”