City Of Ember Novels & Stories

An emissary who digs every ground to know the information that is needed for the transaction. I don’t torture. I don’t use violence. I just use my brain and dig a hole into the lives of every person that I dwell with. I consume. It’s either I consume information or life. Nothing is in between. “You’re new here?” Sultry seductive voice. A high-pitched voice of a woman fills my ears as I stare at the market below me. I am at one branch of this tree, looking down like a king to some shitty wolves as they made the deal to some strangers in their life.

I just said that Sarreth's car would disappear from my sight. I took a deep breath. Holding the hem of my backpack, I turned around and faced the big gate where people like me who also had a bag or backpack enter. Out of curiosity, I tried to read what was written at the upper of the large open gate after I lifted my gaze. And yeah, hindi talaga ako nilulubayan ng curiosity ngayon. After kong basahin ang nasa taas, my forehead furrowed. NOTRE DAME UNIVERSITY OF MAGBANUA CITY was written here.

The Void Hunters had arrived in force, their presence turning the sky into a writhing mass of anti-light that hurt to look upon directly. The assault began, striking first at the Realm of Embers, a world where phoenix-folk had dwelt for millennia, their cities carved from crystallized flame and their culture built around eternal renewal. I watched from Hollowshade's mirror-pool, the scrying surface rippling with images of unspeakable devastation as flames that had burned for ten thousand years were swallowed whole in moments, leaving only a bleak, echoing silence that stretched across continents.

It was a video, grainy, like it had been recorded in haste. Ember stared into the lens. Her face was bruised, but her eyes burned bright. “My name is Ember. I was created by Ash Phoenix as his final weapon. But I am not him. I don’t want war. I don’t want destruction. I want truth. I want family.” She paused. “Alma Sterling if you’re watching this, I need your help.” Ezra exchanged a look with Alma. “This could be bait.” Roman agreed. “Or a trap.”

--- Pov: Ember. Meanwhile, Ember walked through town with Lorna beside her, past the market and down the quieter roads toward the east side of Raven’s Peak. Lorna kept her hood up, eyes flitting nervously over rooftops and alleyways. “You’re safe,” Ember said softly. “People here won’t turn you away.” Lorna nodded, but didn’t speak. They entered a modest building with ivy curling up the brick. Ember pressed the elevator button and the doors opened with a quiet chime.

"Ember rank trials will proceed in three parts." Renna's voice rang crisp and clear across the assembled candidates, the practice yard transformed for the occasion with raised viewing stands along every wall, students and instructors alike gathered to watch. "Compound control, sustained output, and written theory. Fail any section, and you remain at Spark rank until the next trial season."

Her name was Ember, and she had traveled from the burned lands in the far south, where the gold flowers grew through the ash. "The watcher called me," Ember said, standing at the garden gate. "It said there was healing here for me." Mira studied with her. There was a rawness in Ember's gaze, a grief that had not yet found its shape. The watcher had called her, yes—but not to teach. To be held. "What healing do you seek?" Mira asked. Ember's voice was steady, but her hands trembled. "I was a child when the fire came. My family died. My village burned. The gold flowers grew through the ashes, and the watcher showed me this place. It said I would find rest here."

“Because you keep it steady. And you never gloat.” Carolina considered this, then flicked her a half-hearted salute. “I’m saving it up.” Night swelled quickly, shedding the usual half-measures. The city felt like it was holding its breath, the old tides struggling against new, raw currents. They met Ember in an old cold-room behind a cannery, redolent of rust and fish bones. She was smaller than Carolina expected, her face crowded with the delicate geometry of someone who had never, for a moment, been a child.

POV EMMA BELLE The capital of Aetheria, Ouroboros, was not a city of wood or stone. It was a sprawling, multi-tiered machine of rusted iron, brass pipes, and grinding gears. Massive smokestacks belched a thick, amber haze into a sky that refused to rain. Here, the "Wild" was a memory, and the "Logic" had been weaponized into survival.

The former Emberborn territory. Before the war, before the extinction of their queen, the Emberborn had not lived within Hell’s central rings. They had ruled the northern volcanic highlands—a realm of living magma seas and crystalline fire spires that responded to their sovereign’s will. Now it was a fractured terrain of black glass plains and collapsed magma chambers. Abundant with fire that no longer answered to anyone. The projection showed the region as dormant. Not dead, but unclaimed.