City Of Ember Author Novels & Stories

She yawned, stretching her tired hands. Her phone beeped, and she reached into her pocket, smiling at the caller ID. “Emily?” she called, feeling warmth despite the odd feelings she had earlier. Her sadness disappeared in no time. “It’s late already, probably 4 pm,” she said, stopping in her tracks. “You found a place already?” “Yes,” Emily replied from across the call. “Your dad is with me. California seemed perfect to start a new life. We saw an apartment that you will like.”

“Alright, Ember. I’ll hold off—for now. But if one spark from your war hits my country, I’m stepping in.” She nods, sharp, and steps back into the rain. “You won’t need to.” As the door slams, Clara sighs. “They’re stubborn, but they’re fighters. Let’s hope they’re enough.” I stare out the window, the mansion fading in the storm. A radio crackles—movement at the town’s edge, unidentified. My gut says Ember’s wrong. This isn’t contained. **** Pov: Ember

“We fight.” In the Shadows Ignis stood in the dark. Watching through fire. He had seen everything. Lycan’s death. Zuri’s grief. Daisy’s pain. He smiled. “Let them gather. Let them burn with hope.” He turned to the white-haired girl—**Ember**. “Soon,” he said. “The child will come to me. And when she does… she will burn this world to ash.” Rosa’s POV They told me Lycan was gone.

It was a tough year, being a recruit, and I’d warned them on their first day that at least half of them wouldn’t make it. I just never thought Ember’s best friend would be one of those who didn’t cut it. Ember herself obviously and definitely didn’t only cut it. She kicked its ass. I just assumed her friend was made from the same, or at least similar, stuff she was. Apparently, I was wrong. Shrugging her shoulders, I noticed they remained slumped when she dropped them. “She took a job back home in Seattle.” “Why the fuck would she choose Seattle over Manhattan? I’ve been there. It doesn’t hold a candle to this place.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – “The Kiss That Burns” The Emberfall garden lay hushed in the night, its roses glowing faintly with emberlight. Moonlight spilled in fractured streams across the stone paths, but even the pale glow of the sky seemed dull compared to the restless shimmer of the fire-roses. Their petals pulsed faintly, ember veins flickering as if they, too, were listening for something.

I wondered if she could see my fear or maybe she just didn’t care. Finally, she said, “Then follow.” They led us deeper into the city. Emberdeep was no ruin. Its streets were paved with black obsidian, worn smooth by centuries of passage. Heat radiated from the walls, not suffocating, but constant like walking inside a forge. Shadows moved behind molten glass windows. Children, elders, warriors. A hidden people, sustained by flame and secrecy. We passed beneath vast archways carved with fire-language, the old tongue. I caught pieces—warnings, prayers, fragments of ancient prophecy.

"Mad? Ember you are choosing love. Following your heart. That is exactly what Grandma would have wanted." She sobbed into my shoulder. "I miss her so much. I wish she were here to see this." "She is here. Watching over us. And she is so proud of you." We held each other while she cried. My mind was already racing through logistics. A human hybrid pregnancy was unprecedented. The medical complications alone could be severe. But we would handle it. Together. The way Mom taught us. "Tell me about Marcus," I said. "How did you meet?" Ember pulled back and wiped her eyes. "He works at the library in town. I went in looking for research materials and we started talking."

Ember mumbled to herself, “But I fucking need him still.” Ember stopped in front of her apartment door and opened it with her key. Once she got inside, Ember removed her top shirt, leaving her in her sports bra. Ember went to the other side of her bed and opened the curtains. The street of Pinephil city isn’t that appealing to tourists at all. But the lights at this night hour would give justice and beauty to the city at least. “A sparkling façade of the gruesome life here.” Ember scoffed and softly closed the curtain. She went to her desk and opened her computer. She was about to take a seat when someone knocked on her door.

Dalilah's camera clicked before her feet had finished materializing, the flash catching the crystal spires in a burst of reflected light that made them look like they were already photographing themselves. "This is not the Wastelands," she said, and her voice carried the weight of someone who had memorized the Council's descriptions and was now watching them crumble. "The Council called these lands cursed. Barren. Uninhabitable." "The Council called them what they needed the world to believe," I replied. "They gave me garbage and expected me to drown in it. I chose to build a city from the refuse." Emberlyn's mouth opened, closed, opened again, her worries rendered meaningless by a city that

Alina stepped forward because everyone expected her to, because her feet remembered what her mind wanted to refuse. Inside, the Crown chamber was circular and close, its walls curving inward like the inside of a shell. Smoke-darkened stone rose to a vaulted ceiling. The floor bore the marks of centuries, worn thin at the center where people had stood and waited and hoped. At the heart of the room, on a low plinth of blackwood, rested the Ember Crown. It looked smaller than Alina remembered. Or perhaps memory had made it heavier. Up close, the metal was darker than iron, threaded with faint ember-red veins that did not glow so much as wait. At its center sat a single stone, dull and opaque, t