Ashen Storm Novels & Stories

Ashen’s arms closed around Liolai just as the storm of broken storylines slammed into the field. It should’ve crushed them all, so many fragmented realities, sentences unfinished, metaphors severed mid-breath. But Ashen didn’t flinch. He stood there, unshaken. A figure sculpted in ink and fire, And the storm bent around him. Did not touch him, Did not touch the child. It bowed. Kael stumbled backward, stunned. Liora froze, her blade still drawn, every muscle taut.

Asher’s voice came out as a dark growl, rough and primal. For a split second Asher’s eyes glowed golden. That fleeting flash reminded me of his angelic avatar from my dreams. Another second slowed down and then— Shadows as high as the sky erupted from Asher’s frame; like a star had just died, and all that remained… was darkness. Massive storm clouds broke through the divine dome as though it were made of fragile glass. The shadowy clouds twisted and contorted, transforming into a colossal, dark wolf in the sky.

So when a Necromancer terrorist group waged war against law-abiding citizens and started wreaking havoc, the Chicago became a shitshow and immediately converted to a worst kind, not even the local normie police could handle. Which meant the best counterattack came not from local human authorities but in the form of government-backed Awakens. “Where the fuck is our cover fire?” Knight Adamson gritted his teeth and raise his hand casting a shield but flinched when magic bullets started raining down at them. He glanced over at his second-in-command and communications and infiltration specialist Sergeant Rina Abello, as she dropped down beside him, magically enhanced AKR-75 assault rifle tightly

How weird. “Anyways, do you have a name? I can't keep calling you shadow walker.That's bit too risky” “No” His answer is quick and plain.I sigh, thinking of a name to give him. “Xander?” I suggest. Before I could ask if he liked the name, a menacing growl from outside stole my attention. I looked down the window and saw three wolves on Zion and others on Drax. Zion shifts but Drax remains fighting in his human form.

They say dragons never truly die. No matter how many times you kill them. ―Suzanne G. Rogers,?Jon Hansen and the Dragon Clan of Yden Randolph Belishaw stumbled down the alleyway, falling against a trash bin. His cold body shook. He couldn't think. Couldn't speak. Blood trailed down his cheeks as he clawed the sides of the metal dumpster and tried to stand. Must get to Jodie. Must warn Mikhail.

I know him without knowing how. His mouth is closed. Fear rises fast. Not fear that he’ll howl. Fear that he won’t. Fear that I’ve carried him through blood and ash only to pass down silence. “No,” I breathe. I reach for him. The distance stretches. “Choose,” I whisper. “Not for them. Not for me. For yourself.” His little chest expands. Then Ashen opens his mouth. The howl is clear. Not loud. Not violent. Not hungry. Clear.

Tears streamed down my face, dripping into my father's ashes and staining them dark. I did not wipe my face. I did not respond to Stella. I did not look at Hudson, who stood beside her with an undisguised smirk. I reached out with trembling hands, gathering the ashes little by little, trying to put them back into the urn. "I'm sorry, Dad... I'm so sorry... this is my fault..." Hudson had his arm around Stella's waist. He let out a theatrical sigh. "Damon, don't take it too hard. The man is already dead. Besides, this was your own carelessness..."

I’m the storm. Asher glances at me, eyes widening for the briefest moment, then back at his enemies. He doesn’t stop fighting. I lunge, intercepting another wolf charging at him. Together, we form a deadly tandem, instinct and skill combining seamlessly, though I’ve never done this before.

Kaelen was at their head, his body a low, fluid line of predatory grace, his mind a cold, calculating machine that was processing the storm of information pouring through the bond. The Ashen Paw were no longer an army. They were a mob, a tidal wave of feral rage and betrayed purpose. They ran through the valley, their former discipline shattered, their movements a chaotic, unpredictable dance of violence. They ignored the Varek cavalry, their focus absolute, their senses locked onto the scent of their tormentor.

Sweat dripped from her forehead, and Qing Yue shakily raised a trembling hand to soothe her throbbing temples. "It was a nightmare. Just another nightmare." She whispered the words, clutching onto them like a lifeline as her heart drummed in her ears. "Nothing more than a nightmare." Unfortunately, the words sounded unconvincing even to her own ears. Looking to the side, she saw that it was only 1 in the morning. She still had 5 more hours to go before morning descended. Because of the advanced weapons used in the Great War, the climate of both the Old World Formation and the New World Formation had changed drastically. One of these changes in the New World Formation was the enshrouding dark