City Of Ember Series Books Novels & Stories

CHAPTER EIGHT – “Ember’s Secret” Rowan woke to the faint sound of crackling. At first, she thought it was the fireplace. Then she realized the sound was coming from her desk—where Ember, her flame spirit, hovered, glowing brighter than usual. The tiny fireball floated closer, his light pulsing like a heartbeat. “Ember?” she whispered, pushing herself upright. “What’s wrong?” The spirit didn’t answer in words. Instead, a thin, wavering voice curled into her mind—like whispers carried on smoke.

I haven't had a chance to read it yet, and for some reason, I have this feeling that it's stupid of me to neglect it. Whoever put it here clearly wants me to read it. I have half an hour to go before meeting everyone in the library. Mr. Ferris told us our class will be there. I cross my legs and flip the delicate pages back to page one. The first few pages detail a history I'm familiar with, but it's when I get to the fifth page that things start to become...unfamiliar to me. I come across the term Emberborn, and my mind just twists itself into small knots. I've never heard it before.

Recognition. Ember felt it at first, the scenery vibrating through her like a plucked string. Suddenly, I was back in the Emberclaw library, three weeks ago, the clock reading two in the morning. I was reaching for a book behind a locked case, a book I had absolutely no business touching. The lock was simple enough, but the contents? Not so much.

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

Still, the exhaustion weighing on our group felt far more urgent than my suspicions. Oliver returned after finishing the paperwork. “We’ve secured the best lodging in the central district, Alpha. An inn called Holy Ember.” We entered the city. The streets were paved with warm red bricks beneath our feet. On both sides, blacksmith shops were still hard at work, the clang of metal against metal forming a constant rhythm. Cinderbloom felt completely different from Sapphire Water territory, which smelled of damp earth and morning mist. Here, everything was dry, hot, and buzzing with explosive energy.

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.”

The air shivered, not from terror, but from a recognition that was older than memory. Seren closed her eyes and heard it: not a voice, not a threat, but a promise written in the marrow of her bones. Unmake him. Or be unmade. She opened her eyes. And the world had changed. She walked into the heart of Emberhold, where the great Flameheart burned. For a long moment, she watched the fire twist and roar, the only sound in the endless silence. The city’s dreams weighed on her shoulders, dreams of peace, dreams of vengeance, dreams of a future she was now being dared to defend.

“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.

I was no longer recognizable, yet I still managed a faint smile at the camera. “Today,” I said, “I buried eighteen skeletons. Exile Island was never some romantic place. It’s a graveyard for boys.” Then, the scene shifted to me sitting beside piles of stark white bones. I wasn’t the only one brought here. There were far too many. At that point, I paused, then raised my hand and waved at the camera. “Hi, Agnes. Long time no see. I wonder, by the time you see this video, will I already be dead? But even if I am, my body will stay here, just like these bones. So, Agnes, don’t forget to come and collect my corpse.”

“She wouldn’t hurt Angelica, would she? I mean, she’s just a child. She can’t possibly understand everything that’s going on.” Ember didn’t answer my question right away. She held out her hand and blew softly into her palm. A small ball of flame sputtered to life, illuminating where we stood in the darkness. The light flickered and waned, dancing as its casted shadows along Ember’s high cheekbones and plump lips.