Borrow Born Of Blood And Ash นิยาย & เรื่องราว

His throat tightened at that. Ash. His brother, not by blood, but something deeper. Older. Bound by the kind of loyalty that didn’t come with words. The last. The last of his kind. A ghost walking in a dead man’s skin for centuries, trapped in a broken reality with no home left to return to. And now. now there’s a chance. A real one. Not just to survive. But to restore. To bring back what was lost. To fix what the fracture took.

Cursed. I pushed myself up from the floor, my chest heaving, as I gazed at the group of elders, tears falling down my cheeks and my voice breaking with every word. "If you can't feel sorry for me, then at least feel sorry for my child. Asher's child The Bloodclaw heir developing inside my womb.” Gasps again started going through the hall at my word, as some started murmuring in suprise, but however, one of the elders narrowed his eyes at me and sneered.

It was pain that hummed through her teeth. She sank beneath. And the visions came. Her mother birthing her beneath a crimson sky. Her father holding her with blood on his hands and a curse in his eyes. Victor, kneeling once, years ago, mouth full of promises he would never keep. Asher, hands torn, teeth bared, begging someone to let him protect what he could never own. And herself. Standing over a battlefield. Alone. Crownless. But not bowed. She gasped. The water didn’t fill her lungs.

Creatures seen that hadn’t walked the land in generations. “Who are the Ashborn?” I asked. Lucian looked up. “Exiled scions of Kaelith’s bloodline. Sorcerers. Fire-warped. Supposedly extinct.” “They’re not,” Fenton muttered. “They’ve just been waiting.” I touched the scroll again, watching the sigil in my palm flare faintly. “They think I’m her heir.” Lucian leaned in close, hand on mine. “You’re not.” “I might be.” “But you’re not her.”

Asha’s special ability was swallowed up by the golden drop of blood, and the two, a slightly conscious treasure with a passive one melded and evolved with the misfortune that landed on their owner. The soft golden glow on Asha’s body continued to expand before shrinking back in her heart as a breath of air gushed inside her lungs. Asha Blood sprang up from to a sitting position as she gasped for air with tears falling down her reddened eyes and cheeks like rainfall. The life that was returned to her flashed through her eyes as the manic pain she felt from the inhuman deaths of her family and relatives once again tortured her as silent repressed cries rang out in the desolate temple.

“I thought the gods buried her deep enough.” I looked at him then—not as a threat, not as a stranger—but as a sibling. A broken boy trained in shadows and raised on silence. “Tell me everything,” I said. And he did. Ashen had been born first. She was older than both of us. A child of prophecy, of lunar fire and bloodstorms. But the moment she was born, the seers saw death. Not just war—extinction. They said she’d burn the whole bloodline down.

Darian said quietly, his voice filled with quiet reverence, “You can’t change what they’ve done to you. But you can stop it. You have the power to end this—to end the Blood Pact. You’re not the weapon they made you to be. You’re more than that.” Asha swallowed hard, her gaze flicking from the tank to the pedestal that pulsed with dark energy. The Soulbone Imprint—her bloodline—was the source of the Blood Pact. Her ancestors, her people, had been betrayed. And now, as the last of the Frostkin, it was up to her to right the wrongs. But how? Could she destroy the very thing that gave her the power to fight back? Could she sever the connection to her own bloodline, to her own existence, for the

George revealed in a tranquil tone. Asher's lids widened and his foot pressed the brake pedal even before he could think about it. Jamie held onto the car for support and to keep herself from flying through the windshield, as the Alpha switched the gear to park, then he turned and faced George who busied himself with looking at the nothingness in the darkness of the forest ahead. "What do you mean?" Asher asked George as carefully as he could, for his fingers fisted and relaxed with every breath he took. George sighed, "she was born of a werewolf."

"But the same with humans and humans. You know how genetics can mess up sometimes, don't you?" "I thought vampires couldn't have children," I admitted quietly. "Aren't they all dead people?" "There are two types of vampires," she said. "Those who are born and those who are turned. Your father and my mother were the true-blood. They were born, not created. You said it yourself about the evolution that might have helped them just like it did to humans. Only vampires couldn't procreate as productively as humans could. They're not the fittest, so it's rare for them to have children at all. And in our case, we're the rarest."

“I don’t need reminding.” She stared at me as if searching for a punchline, as if this could somehow be a sick joke. But when she saw no humor in my face, only the exhaustion, her shoulders slumped. “How could your father do this to you? How could he just—sell you off just like that?” My throat burned, and I bit my lip to keep tears from slipping free. “Because that’s how it works in our world. What I want has never mattered. I’m a pawn, Gia. Nothing more.”