Ashes Of The Past Novels & Stories

“Through fire, ashes, and every challenge, we face it together.” The first light of dawn fully bathed the city, illuminating a world that had once been ruled by fear and deception. Now, it reflected their victory, their love, and their promise to one another. Blood and ashes, fire and survival, they had endured it all. And standing there, intertwined, hearts aligned, they finally understood: the past had shaped them, but it would no longer define them. For the first time, Justina Ashes allowed herself to believe in the future, a future forged in love, passion, and unwavering trust.

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.

The crack blazed brighter than ever. For a long moment no one moved. The clearing was silent except for the hiss of the crack in the marker and the distant retreat of paws through underbrush. Mist drifted back in to fill the space where the pack had stood. Ava pulled herself upright against the stone. Her hands trembled. The silver glow had withdrawn into the token but left a faint shimmer under her skin, like moonlight trapped in her veins. She could still hear the echo of the whisper, softer now but insistent: Daughter of ash…

He hadn't removed his make-up after the day's acting. He pursed his lips and blinked. His lips parted, muttering: "Four months." He only had four more months until the end of the shooting, but for some reason, he wished the days could be faster. Counting back, he'd left home two months back, and that was also the last time he saw Ace. Ace... The figure of the dangerous man flickered in his mind, and then the face appeared in the mirror. The Ace in the bathroom mirror was smiling at Brewster. The kind of smile that had never been seen on his face before.

It was time to stop protecting me. If the box was where I had to be to learn something about the past, so be it. “It says here that the Box of Ashes was crafted by the first coven during the Age of Undoing, and magic began to fall apart,” I read. “After the witches lost the battle against all kinds, they tried to use the box to manipulate the past, but in doing so, they created a hole between past and present. ” I continued. “Days repeated, people disappeared, and memories no longer stayed with the right people.”

On our eighth anniversary, my boyfriend, Liam Daniels, dragged me along to plan his marriage proposal. That exact morning, my pregnancy test came back positive. Outwardly, I teased him for ruining the surprise. Privately, I called everyone I knew to brag. My parents wept over the phone, saying time flew by too fast. My best friend, Mia Kyle, promised to beat him up if he ever stepped out of line. Even my older sister, Sarah Davis, choked up, swearing she would be there no matter how busy work got. On the big night, I wore the white dress Liam bought me. When I stepped into the venue, I realized the proposal had been transformed into a full wedding reception. I watched Liam Daniels

Ash and Ink Words came until I’d emptied every memory of the last semester onto parchment. I didn’t forgive betrayals or forget the names of those who turned on their blood or made deals in dark corners. I recounted the atrocities of the Interregnum and Batista’s last fatal error in trusting humans who thought power could love her enough to leave.

Not when Caspian needed me. Evening found me cresting the final rise overlooking Ashwood territory, or what was left of it. Ashwood lay ahead… the path twisted through familiar hills, but as I crested the final rise, the sight hit me like a physical blow. The pack lands were a ruin. Once-vibrant meadows were scorched black, earth churned to mud by boots and claws. The main village… proud halls of stone and timber lay in smoldering heaps, roofs caved in, walls cracked like broken eggshells. Smoke still curled from the wreckage, carrying the acrid bite of burned wood and flesh. Bodies dotted the landscape… warriors frozen in death, some shifted, some human, faces twisted in final agony. The ai

He looked down at her, his face returning to that familiar, impenetrable mask of quiet acceptance. "I'm not interested in pursuing that, Serena," Asher said quietly. Serena stared at him, flabbergasted, scrambling to her feet. "What do you mean you aren't interested?" "It was twelve years ago," Asher said softly, his tone completely flat. "Arthur is dead. The scandal is ancient history to the market. Unearthing Marcus Hayes won't change what happened to my twenties, nor will it change who I am today. I built Blackthorne. I don't need Evelyn's confession to validate my existence."

*********************** I pour a drink. Stand at the window looking at the city. Somewhere out there, Julian Voss is in a holding cell. Facing twenty years. Losing everything. Because Esmeralda Morrison...Hale...destroyed him. Using his own words. His own confessions. His own desperate need for redemption. It's brilliant. Ruthless. Perfect. And it cost her something. I could see it in her eyes when she came home. The emptiness. The realization that revenge doesn't fill holes.