Ashen Storm Novels & Stories

My knees hit the red-stained snow, and the world began to tilt. Kael caught me before I hit the ground. He pulled me against his chest, his blood soaking into my dress, his heart thudding against mine. He didn't look at the carnage. He didn't look at his pack. He just looked at me. "You broke the cuffs," he whispered, his voice thick with awe and terror. "I had to," I rasped, my vision blurring. "I couldn't let him take you." He pressed his forehead to mine, his scent of pine and steel the only thing keeping me conscious. "The Council will never let you stay now, Asha. They saw what you are. They saw the fire."

Each strike carved scars into the earth. "You were never meant to lead," Selene spat. "You were born broken. I was the heir!" Elizabeth’s eyes burned. "Then why am I the one they followed?" The Golden Rising: Mid-battle, Asharoth appeared not in form, but as a massive shadow that blotted out the sky. His influence turned the weakest wolves into feral beasts. Some of Elizabeth’s warriors fell, snarling, eyes turned red. "The Void is seeping through!" Saelith cried.

But Asher had no idea a storm was brewing for the evening. ⚬──────────anjaanisadek──────────⚬

Curious looks are thrown at me but I don't care. Nothing of human nature applies to Battista Cattaneo, AKA Ash Thunder. If Grant is a human, then Ash is a god, a hurricane, his nature unpredictable, the totality of his being as beautiful as it is understated, perilous, and unrelenting. A brave man who never fears the fire, never fears death. I craved the wills of the tempest when I sought him out but I didn't know the extent of the storm I was getting myself into as at the time.

The winds had changed. The storm that had hung over them now felt like the calm before the true fight. Asha stood with the Frostkin warriors, the newly-formed resistance, and the few allies who had begun to rally to their cause. She could feel it in her bones—the pressure of what was coming, the weight of the kingdom's fury about to descend upon them. Greywatch Spire, the heart of royal power and cruelty, was their target.

The dagger at her side gleamed, a twin to the ones Bianca wielded. They faced each other across the chamber, silence taut as a wire. The world outside ceased to exist. Only mother and daughter remained, two queens sculpted from fire and ash, each reflecting the other’s power, each bearing the weight of history. Bianca swallowed, letting her voice roll out like a blade: “I am not your shadow, Ash. I am the storm that will follow you.” Ash tilted her head, amused. “Then let the storm come, Mother. But remember storms die in fire. And fire… I command.”

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.

Arwan's whispering voice echoed, “It's been a while since I heard your thoughts.” “You got my message,” I asked happily. “Of course, there's no way I wouldn't… Melonie, I'm sorry about our son, I…” “Let's keep that aside, we have something much more terrifying to deal with,” I cut him off. “Alastor is after Ashera.” “What the hell is Ashera?” Arwan asked calmly. “It's a very powerful sword named after its last owner,” I explained, “Find it before Alastor does.”

To damn my life! When we finished our meal, the storm outside was relentless, a torrent of rain that seemed to come straight from the heavens. The streets quickly transformed into a chaotic mess of puddles and rushing water. Desperate for a way out, I called for a taxi, but every driver I reached was either too frightened of the storm or simply unwilling to make the trek. As I stood shivering near the entrance, I caught sight of Asher and John engaged in a hushed, intense conversation. There was something undeniably conspicuous about their exchange, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing something crucial.